


The Crucible

by zinjadu



Series: Knight-Errant [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Final Battle, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Lightsaber Battles, Love, Multi, Space Battles, The Force, desperate final measures, even in the darkest moments, the end is upon us, there is still reason to hope, works in mysterious ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 15:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12868026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: A Separatist fleet comes to Coruscant, the Jedi are scattered, the Senate lacks checks on the Chancellor's power, and at the center sits Darth Sidious, with fallback plan upon fallback plan.  In these final days, the fate of the galaxy, the Republic, and the Jedi Order will be decided.





	1. The Devil is Precise

Sheev Palpatine watched from his opulent, red office as the traffic sped all around the city-planet that was the heart of the Republic.  Hands clasped behind his back, he saw a perfect microcosm of the galaxy.  Trillions of people going about their tiny little lives, all thinking that they mattered, that their lives would have any impact at all, and that if they were fast enough or smart enough or good enough, they would be happy.  It was a pleasant little lie people told themselves, one that kept them docile, even in the middle of a war. 

 

 _If I am good enough, good things will happen to me_.

 

It was so easy to pull on those strings, to manipulate people when you appealed their sense of _right_.  Certainly, it was even easier to appeal to someone’s self-interest, but that was always vulnerable to other complications.  No, so much easier to cast particular goals as _being good for you_ , rather than something someone wanted.

 

The boy had nearly been his.  Had nearly been shot through with darkness from his encounter with the Sith Temple.  But that had been destroyed, and Sheev’s source of extra power gone with it.  Though, that still might not matter.  He had plans for the boy, for Skywalker, and he would not see them upset by a troll and Kenobi, a man who had grown too much above himself.  Mace Windu still sat in the Temple, like a nasty burr he couldn’t get rid of, but in time even that Jedi would fall.

 

They would all fall, and he would _rise_.

 

But the boy was slipping from his grasp.  He was too far away, too long from Coruscant and the delicate touch of his decades old manipulation of Skywalker’s mind.  It required occasional upkeep, and the stresses of war meant that the boy’s mind was changing faster than he could always account for.  It would be perilous if Skywalker threw off those strings now.

 

Perilous, but not without possibility.

 

If the boy would not come to him willingly, then he could force the boy to his will.  There were still levers to pull, buttons to push, threads of a web still unbroken through frayed.

 

Yes, he still had weapons as yet unused.  Untried, but still available.  Dooku had proven to be unreliable at the last, which he had rather been expecting.  The old former Jedi was too much the proud man to ever fully commit to another’s vision.  He would have to be dealt with, too.

 

They would all be dealt with, and the power of Darth Sidious would be absolute.

 

Someone might suggest that he should not pursue this.  His current power is nearly absolute as it is, and the current chaos had given him even more power, no matter how much some bleeding-hearts in the Senate tried to take it away from him.  They would come to an end, too, of course, though some of them, like Amidala, still could serve a purpose.

 

No, it was not mere power that he wanted.  He craved, he _required_ the destruction of the Jedi.  Of their lies, of their ideals of service and sacrifice.  It had made the galaxy weak.  It made them all weak, and he could never abide weakness, in others and most especially in himself.  It was not power, but _strength_ that mattered.  Freedom from the petty concerns of others.

 

He was not yet free.

 

But soon, he would be.

 

Free from constraints, the opinions of others, the so-called consent of the governed, even… free from death itself.

 

It was time to enact the final stage of his plan, while planetary forces were diminished, with only two battalions around Coruscant.  Even better, that they were led by Kenobi and the brat, Tano.  Ensuring their deaths would mean that Skywalker was nearly entirely alone, and then… then he would turn to the one who had always been there, always supported him.

 

Skywalker, and the galaxy, would be his.  One way, or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teaser chapter post for the beginning of the end, my friends! We're to the final stretch now.
> 
> Regular post on Sunday.


	2. Fires Within Fires

Ahsoka woke up, disoriented for a moment before remembering where she was and who she was with.  Slowly, deliberately, she stretched out, unwilling to get up as yet, working some of the sleep out of her muscles.  However, the fact that she was currently on top of Rex due to the narrow bunk, meant she woke him up no matter how careful she was.  Grinning, her heart and stomach both fluttering with delight, she watched as he blinked a couple of times and then focused his golden eyes on her. 

 

His smile softened the sharp planes of his face, and his eyes made her heart stop, full of love and awe and a deep tenderness that made her breath catch.

 

“Hi,” she said, and she could feel her lekku pulsing with a mix of delight and embarrassment.  She shouldn’t be embarrassed, not at all, not after everything they’d both been through, apart and together, but this was even more intimate than the night before in some ways. 

 

“Hey yourself,” he replied, voice pleasantly husky from sleep.  Wiggling up, she captured his lips with her own, and his arms encircled her.  She hummed into the kiss, and they broke apart reluctantly.  They continued to grin like idiots at each other.  Something he said, however, tugged at the back of her mind.  Drumming her fingers on his bare chest, and what a nice chest it was a part of her mind decided to inform her, she gave him a thoughtful look, trying to decide if she should bring it up or not.

 

She forgot, however, that Rex could read her face and her lekku, and that she wasn’t even making half an effort to hide anything.

 

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, shifting so that he was sitting against the wall and pulled her up with him.  They cuddled up together, their bodies fitting together snugly on his narrow bunk in his small, spare commander’s quarters.  There was a window, just big enough for her to fit through, she knew from experience, though all she could see were the lights of speeders in the dark sky, which meant it was either very late or very early.

 

“You said something, before, and I wanted to ask you about it.”  She observed him carefully, but he only shrugged and gestured for her to continue.  Taking a breath, she went on.  “You said you didn’t know what you were doing… Rex… have you ever, you know, been with someone before?”

 

“Nope,” he answered simply, but she sputtered.  He raised an eyebrow at what was clearly an unexpected reaction.  “Why are you surprised?”

 

“Uh, because when I first joined the 501st, I would hear the other women talking in the showers about the _vod’e_ , sleeping with them, and _you_ came up in conversation a lot.  I think they’d forget I was around.  I was a lot shorter then, and the stall walls were pretty high,” she explained, realizing she was rambling little and closed her mouth.  He grunted darkly, but a spark of understanding lit in his eyes.

 

“Ah, that.  Right, so turns out there was a bet, about me, and they were all trying to collect.  I guess I was worth a lot of creds on the list they devised, but since I wouldn’t play along, they lied to try to get the creds,” he told her, and she felt her stomach drop.  Republic navy officers, making _bets_ about sleeping with Rex, about any _vod’e_ , bragging about like they were _things_.

 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.  Put a stop it, never happened again,” he said soothingly, as if he could sense her emotions like she could sense his.  She dripped her head forward, resting on his chest.

 

“No, it’s not alright, but it’s done, so,” she trailed off, breathing out, letting it go as he clearly already had.  Not knowing what else to say, she kissed him again, and her heart ached at how he touched her face, so gently, how he touched her so gently.  Other parts of her ached too, but that was different.

 

“I got a question for you, though, if we’re getting clarification on things,” he said softly against her lips. 

 

“Hm, what’s that?” she asked, her eyes closed as she nipped at his bottom lip.  He sucked in his breath, but persisted in spite of her attempts to distract him.

 

“You keep calling me something, maeth… something.  What’s it mean?” he asked, and she pulled back, just a little, and felt her heart beat slowly, slowly.

 

“ _Meathor_ means warrior, a warrior of the clan.  _Maethor’en_ … my warrior,” she told him, her voice husky with all the emotions she couldn’t give voice to, her fingers tracing the lines of his cheekbones, and then along his jaw.  Leaning forward, he kissed her again, and she was fairly certain she wasn’t going to get tired of that any time soon.  She felt desire pooling in her belly, and she could feel Rex’s reaction against her as well.

 

“ _Ner’jetti_ ,” he breathed, and she’d had enough of the back and forth again.  Even though she was on already lying on top of Rex, she still managed to pounce on him, shifting so that she straddled his hips.  He ran one hand down her waist and cupped her ass, his other hand at the back of her neck, under her central lek, holding her as they kissed, mouths opening, breathing each other in.  Her hands traced down his neck and over his well-muscled shoulders, steadying her as she deepened their kiss.

 

Then a harsh, wailing alarm blared through their room, through the entire barracks, setting her montrals to ringing.

 

She looked up and out the window, where the first fingers of dawn were breaking through the night, but already, and speeders were scrambling for safety.  She jumped off of Rex and started pulling on her pants while he did the same.

 

“Space take it, the planetary alarm?  _Now?_ ” she shouted over the deafening klaxon.

 

“How are you even surprised?” he shouted back, getting in to his blacks.  She had no reasonable reply, so she opened the door as she adjusted her chestplate and saw some of her troopers half-geared up in the hallway already.

 

“Get me Erel and Ven on comms,” she ordered.  “I want ground teams organized on the double.” 

 

“Yes, sir!” Thorn said, taking off at a run without a backward glance.  She did a quick turn, looking around at the troopers who were slowly assembling.  Rex was a half-step behind her out of his quarters, and Ahsoka didn’t miss Jesse’s too bland expression.

 

“So, we gonna even acknowledge that…” Jesse drawled, and Rex’s gaze zeroed in on Jesse like a triangulated turret.  “Okay, yeah, no we’re not.  Got it.”

 

“Want you coordinate with Fox.  I’m leaving half the 332nd to you,” Rex said, and Jesse’s shoulders squared, and he nodded.  Ahsoka breathed in sharply, knowing what Rex intended to do with the other half of the battalion.

 

“Quick time, boys,” Ahsoka said stridently, marching off in the direction of the comm room, her troopers following.  She glanced at Rex out the corner of her eye, pitching her voice for his ears.  “You intend to lead the boarding parties, I take it.”

 

“I intend to back up my General, General,” Rex said evenly, and she couldn’t argue that point.  If this really was a Seppie invasion she’d need him at her six, like he always had been, even when he couldn’t _be there_ , he had been a rock in her mental landscape.

 

“Glad to hear it, Commander,” she told him, shooting him a here-and-then-gone smirk.  Then she raised her head and shouted in a ringing voice, “Looks like this ain’t a drill boys.  Let’s go give them a 332nd welcome!”

 

“Hell yeah!” her men shouted from behind her, and for all the enthusiasm and bravado and, if she thought about it, machismo, she felt something flit across her Force senses, something dark, chased by something light, like two birds locked in combat across the sky.  It was that sense that told her this was more than what it seemed, but she couldn’t spare a moment for that now.

 

Instead, she ran to the comms room, find it also in chaos, but it least it was chaos where she could get some idea of what was going on.  Stepping up to the command post, she keyed in her codes, wincing as feedback crackled along the transmission, but then the filters did their work and she could make out the myriad of voices all reporting in and providing rapid-fire status updates.

 

“ _Adamant_ and _Negotiator_ have formed up against Grievious’s flagship,” Erel said.  “Our fighters have scrambled and are headed towards the enemy line.”

 

“Planetary defense batteries are online and ready to fire,” she heard a trooper say, and glancing down she saw it was Commander Fox, in charge of ground security for Coruscant, the man who had ordered her shot on sight once upon a time, the man who had tried to kill Fives.  However, he would likely oversee any and all ground operations, so she had to trust him.  Somewhat.

 

“Tano here, with the 3-3-2.  Prepared to divide forces and leave some behind for you, with Jesse as your point of contact,” she said, cutting in to the flow.

 

“Ahsoka!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, his voice higher and strained, and sounding just a little bit out of breath.  “Thank the Force, I was looking for you.  You must have gotten to the barracks quickly.”

 

Ahsoka was very, very glad no one was wasting time on visuals right now, because she was sure her lekku were now giving everything away.  It didn’t help that she heard Rex grunt with suppressed amusement.  Deciding it was better to not look back at him, she leaned forward on the console.

 

“Wanted to take some of the men up, say hello,” she said, and then Rex took a half step in to her field of vision and nodded.  “Just got told we’re a go.”

 

“I’ll join you en route.  Cody has divided the 2-1-2 as well.  Fox, you’ll have a contingent from me under Boil,” Obi-Wan said.

 

“Noted, Generals and thank you.  I will deploy them as needed,” Fox said.

 

“Or as instructed,” Mace Windu said, sounding the most composed of all of them.  But then, he would be, she thought.

 

“Yes, sir,” Fox said quickly.

 

“Auxiliary forces checking in,” Curbern said.  They were housed separately from the _vod’e_ , but they had come to see the troopers are much more than clones, but brothers-in-arms, and Ahsoka felt a burst of pride that _her_ auxiliaries were willing to be at the front of the fight.  “Give the word, sirs, and we’re there.”

 

“Get anyone who can pilot a fighter to the flight deck,” Mace Windu said, and then was interrupted by the most polite bellow in the known universe.

 

“Tiin here, I’m scrambling the ground crews for the local fighter squads,” Master Tiin said in his rumbling voice, the Jedi who was one of the best pilots after Anakin in the entire Order.  “Your approach must be screened.”

 

“Then we’ll see you up there, Master Tiin,” she said, and then pushed off of the console grabbing a mobile comm as she did so, flinging herself back down the hallway, calling out more orders.  “Kix, coordinate with Master Che for medical, and work your magic with the Silent, get them to help.  Jarek, Thorn, I want you to each lead your own boarding parties.  Target supporting ships, blow them up, I don’t care, get them out of our sky!”

 

“Yes, sir,” they chorused, not wasting time to snap of salutes, but dropping back to call out for their divisions to follow them while Kix took off to be where he could do the most good.  Keeping up a loping pace, they made it to the GAR port, where she could see the massive Saesee Tiin calling out orders to the men running for their A-Wings.  Without hesitation, she made for a clustered set of gun-ships, and hoped that with Tiin looking out for them, their multiple boarding parties would have a decent chance to making it to the droid ships.  Before getting in to one of the ships, she turned to her men.

 

“We knew the war would heat up again, and this time the clankers are trying to strike at the heart of the Republic.  They think they caught us asleep at the controls, but we’ve been waiting for this, training for this.”  She pitched her voice to carry, threading a bit of the Force through it, and they stood proud before her.  “Because you’re more than soldiers.  You’re _warriors_.  You’re _brothers_.  You’re _men_.”

 

The cheer was cacophonous, but she didn’t allow herself a backwards glance as they scrambled for more gunships.  She swung in to the pilot’s seat, Rex keeping his position at the door as men boarded.

 

“Ahsoka, are you prepped?” Obi-Wan asked over the comms.  She adjusted the headset, trying to not grimace as the made-for-human-ears device fit weirdly over her montrals, but they would do the job while in space combat.  She looked over her shoulder, and Rex gave her the all clear after he slammed the door shut.

 

“Just waiting on Master Tiin,” she reported, putting a bit of brightness into her voice, like it was no big deal they were about to try to repel a massive Seppie fleet.

 

“Making sure you can keep up, Tano,” the Iktotchi Master rumbled, a new, teasing note in his tone.  She was certain she’d never heard Tiin joke before.

 

“Thanks for that,” she drawled, going over the last few checks on the gunship.  Everything came up clear, and she saw the fighters scream into the sky.  Flicking on the last few checks, she took the controls and followed the fighters up and away, and her sensor readout showed her dozens more ships lifting off with her.

 

The government district was just starting its day-cycle, so they took off in to the lightening sky, and if she had a moment she might have enjoyed seeing dawn from this angle of over the city-planet.  As it was, she kept her eyes fixed up and out, scanning for any sign of how big the Seppie fleet was.  Erel had said Grievous’s flagship was there, which meant that this wasn’t a feint, this was the real thing.

 

As they broke away from the planet’s gravity, she felt that weightlessness lift her slightly, and she was glad doing up the pilot’s straps was second nature.  Behind her she heard the distinctive snap of the trooper’s mag-boots activing.  Then she saw it, the Seppie fleet.

 

It was massive.

 

No glittering far off collection of ships, they were thrust in to an active dog-fight, small ships zipping and zooming across her field of vision.  She got a lock of Tiin’s squad, and brought her ship tight but not too close, making sure they would have room to maneuver.  But there were so many ships, and she had no idea how their two battalions would be enough to supplement the standard planetary compliment.

 

“Jarek, Thorn, break off, follow Ven’s squads, get to those other cruisers!” she ordered, switching over to the 332nd’s private comms.  They called out in the affirmative, and then she switched back to main comms just in time to catch the last of Obi-Wan’s orders.

 

“… the same docking bay,” he said, and she was fairly certain she knew what he meant.  Deciding that there was little time for clarification as a Seppie fighter dashed through their formation, and she sent the ship into a hard yawl, angling out of the way.  Then she throttled the control stick forward, the momentum pitching them hard through the vacuum of space.

 

“Hammer, man the guns!” Rex ordered, and Hammer joined her in the cockpit.  Hammer brought up the targeting computers and began to fire out over their plane of vision, the heavy burst of covering fire buying Tiin’s fighters those precious seconds to regroup. 

 

“Form up!  We’re making a run!” Tiin roared over the comms.  Ahsoka saw Obi-Wan’s ship light up on her scanner board a mere second before she could see another gunship draw even with her.

 

“Don’t tell me it’s _you_ flying, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan drawled, giving no indication that they were screaming along at insane speeds toward a heavily armed and armored ship with only a single fighter squadron for escort.

 

“What?  I did learn from the best, you know,” she quipped back, angling sharply down to follow the path Tiin’s group was taking.

 

“I just hope none of your men had their breakfast,” he said, and she couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up out of her chest, a wild thing.

 

“Watch and learn, old man,” she declared, and brought her ship in tight on the fighter’s formation, and she heard Obi-Wan order his pilot to keep up with her.  As they made for the flagship, the general comm channel was not so light-hearted.  She heard men die screaming, shouting in defiance to the last to defend a planet full of people who didn’t care about them.

 

“…. Overwhelmed.  Make the run now!”

 

“Too many of them!”

 

“They’ve updated their tactics, stay sharp!”

 

“Taking heavy fire, not sure how long the hull plating can hold up to this,” someone said, not a trooper, Republic Navy.

 

“We have to hold, damn it,” she heard Erel call out.  “We’re going to hold and buy the Jedi time to get that stars damned mad _thing_ out of our system!  We _hold_ , do you hear me, ensign?”

 

But there was no time, no way save them except by doing her job, by driving Grievous off, or, if they could manage it, ending him once and for all.

 

Then the flagship loomed before them, massive on a scale that few ships were.  The droid fighters peeled away, and Ahsoka saw the turrets swivel on their bases, targeting them, tracking their movements and, she knew, performing trajectory calculations to score direct hits.  The barrel of the turrets were massive, and as dark as a black hole, drawing the eye in the same way.

 

Gritting her teeth, she tore her eyes away from the intimidating sight and saw what Obi-Wan had been talking about, a hangar bay open for droid gunships.  Tiin veered off a direct course and ran them along the side of the ship, rather than charging the turrets head-on, and she could just see the droids being packed in to their land vehicles in preparation for an invasion.

 

“I take it you saw that,” she said.

 

“It seems we have multiple tasks to accomplish,” Obi-Wan commented.

 

“Be ready,” Master Tiin called out, and then juked back toward the flagship almost before Ahsoka could react.  She pulled hard on the controls and sheered the ship hard to port, following in the wake of Tiin’s cover fire.  Hammer kept up the return fire, targeting the turrets, but they were too heavily armored for the gunships blaster-canons to make a dent.  But they kept up their course, heading for the hangar bay.

 

Then the squadron of droid fighters reappeared from above, firing down on Tiin and his men, and they exploded in a silent, screaming shower of metal and body parts.  The last sound she heard was Tiin’s angry, maddening roar.

 

“Master Tiin,” she whispered, breathed out, feeling his bright flame snuffed out in the Force.  She had never felt another Jedi die before, never so close.  It made her freeze for a second.

 

“Down!” Obi-Wan called out, and she responded on instinct, cutting back down, chased by droid fighters with no fighter squad protection and still in sight of the turrets.

 

“Kriffing hell!” she heard her troopers call out, and she heard them shuffling around in the hold, and suddenly the door to the cockpit slammed shut, and she then felt a lurch as it felt like ship had suddenly been opened to the vacuum of space.  Hammer, beside her, kept up the fire, rotating the guns to fire behind them. 

 

“REX!” she yelled, sounding shrill even to her own montrals, but she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop her heart hammering wildly, her breathing going shallow. 

 

“We’re good General, just thought we could break out some bigger guns to get them off our tail,” Rex said, and she brought up a rear-facing vid-feed to see the droid fighters exploding even as they continued their pursuit, though not quite so close.  Then she risked a quick glance to Obi-Wan’s ship, and saw that Cody must have had a similar notion, because they were launching grenades out the back of the gunship, peppering the space behind them with a mini-minefield. 

 

“Not a sustainable solution,” she commented.

 

“Keeping us alive so far,” Rex pointed out.

 

“Any other brilliant ideas, _vod_?” someone else broke in, Cody, she thought, from how he talked to Rex.

 

“Cody, what happened to Obi-Wan?” Ahsoka asked quickly, doing her best to take evasive action with a craft that handled like a ton of duracete.

 

“I’m here, Ahsoka,” he said, a touch breathless.  “I made it to the cockpit in time.  We need at least another fighter squadron, but we should head back to the cruisers.”

 

“I agree, but there’s a lot of space between us and the cruisers, and all the other squads are in the thick of it.  I don’t suppose you got an extra one lying around?” she asked, heart pounding, not sure how they were going to get out of this one.

 

Then, like a streak of lightning, a fighter squadron appeared, streaking in from a terrifyingly close hyperspace jump.  A squadron of gold-painted fighters.  The fighters laid down fire, covering the gunships and getting the droid fighters off their tails.  Then she saw another Republic cruiser heave in to view, a cruiser she knew well, but had not seen in a long time.

 

“Hey,” a familiar voice said, almost chipper, and she felt a grin bloom on her face.  The voice, like the ship, something that had been long absent from her life, and all the more welcome for it.  _Anakin._

 

“Did you miss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Togruti: Maethor’en = my warrior, a warrior of the clan as claimed by a huntress
> 
> Mando'a: Ner’jetti = my Jedi


	3. Pulling Down Heaven

“Anakin!” he heard Ahsoka exclaim over the comms, her surprise and delight clear, making him grin.  It had been too long since he had seen her, and even though it was for good reason, he could _hear_ how much she had grown.

 

“Anakin…” then there was Obi-Wan’s half-exasperated, half-relieved tone, a constant feature of his youth.  His grin widened in response at the familiarity of it all, and his heart felt light.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Anakin said as he led Gold Squadron in to a forward position in front of the two gunships.  His own boarding contingent, led by Appo, joined up as well, and without having to ask or relay any information, they all fell into line, going for another run on the open hangar bay. 

 

With the droid fighters blasted out of the sky, there were only the turrets to worry about, and he felt that old thrill again, the thrill of a fight, of flying through space, testing his skill against everything that came against him.  He could see the hangar bay opening, outlined in the coruscating blue of a force field, and behind that, row and row of droid invasion forces.  It had been too long since he had done what he was good at, had really flown, winging on the edge of the possible and the sane.

 

The turrets turned toward them, zeroing in.  Standard tactics would suggest a few strafing runs, clearing the area, but standard tactics always played it a bit safe.  Grinning, his breathing calm and even, his heart beating slow, a pocket of peace enveloped him.

 

It was something he had learned how to do, over the past several months, something that was meant to help him do what had to be done.

 

And he remembered…

_“This isn’t working,” Anakin grit out between clenched teeth, his hands balled in to fists on his thighs.  He knelt in his rooms, the noetikon set before him, projecting images of Revan and Meetra.  However, if either of the ancient Jedi remnants were frustrated, they gave to sign of it.  Granted, their time of trials had come and gone.  They had only left these parts of themselves behind as a way to ensure their lessons would not be entirely lost.  Their lives and the lives of people they loved did not hang in the balance.  Those they loved were long dead._

_Those_ he _loved were still very much alive, not that he had talked to any of them lately.  Nor would for some time.  He was too dangerous, he understood now.  The manipulations that Sidious had threaded through his mind were too old to simply break, at least not without possible backlash according to his current guides, as he thought of them.  That meant they needed to a lot of other kinds of work first, if he was ever to be free._

_“We haven’t been trying this for long enough to know if it will work or it won’t, Anakin,” Revan said.  He was certainly the more patient of the two.  Meetra could be patient, but she was more given to wry humor._

_“Or your teaching methods aren’t working for him,” Meetra commented, but held up her hands as Revan was about to reply.  “Just… let me give it a shot, alright?”_

_“Very well, be my guest,” Revan said, gesturing her to take over.  Anakin was still adjusting to the strange dynamic between the two of them, and they talked about things and people thousands of years gone like they were still around.  Meetra turned to him, an encouraging smile on her face._

_“Okay first things first, we need a pazaak deck,” Meetra told him._

_“Uh, never heard of it.  We can play sabacc,” he offered, assuming she was talking about a kind of card game.  She shrugged._

_“As long as its cards with numbers, we can work with it.  Atton… he taught me this trick,” she said, and he didn’t ask., like how he didn’t ask Revan about Bastila.  Anakin had the impression that both of them had left behind someone they loved, and it was clear neither of them cared to talk about it.  He couldn’t blame them, since he couldn’t even think about leaving Padme.  He had been given that choice once and refused it._

_“Sure, alright.”  He stood and rifled through his things, finding a deck of sabacc cards he had picked up somewhere along the way.  Shuffling, he started to deal them out, not sure how playing cards with holoprojections would work._

_“We aren’t going to play, we’re going to use the cards to help occupy your mind to start,” Meetra said.  “Eventually, you won’t need the cards, and then you won’t need to think about them at all.  You’ll be able to create an empty space in your mind without it.  But for now, the cards.  Focus on the numbers, empty your mind of all else, except the numbers.”_

_Focus… stay focused._

The memory floated up in Anakin’s mind, and he felt his mind sharpen, gaining an edge like a blade.  And he _flew_.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka took point with her gunship, right behind Anakin’s fighter, and followed his movements as best as she could.  The turrets on the cruiser fired at them, but with Anakin leading the way, juking and weaving just enough to stay ahead of the targeting algorithms, they came in under the angle of fire.  That just left the rows of battle droids and their ground tanks in the hangar to deal with.

 

“Hammer, clear the decks!” she ordered, making sure she was broadcasting over comms, there being no time for any other warning.

 

“Yes, sir!” he replied enthusiastically, firing low as they made a high-speed approach.  Anakin’s fighters flew in to the hangar just above the gunships, which scraped along the metal floor, flinging battle droids before them and slamming in to the ground tanks.  Luckily, the gunships didn’t just fly like a ton of a duracrete, they were built like it as well.  Rocking to a halt, she undid her safety harness and jumped out of the gunship, smiling widely as her troopers filed out of the main bay, looking none the worse for the war.

 

“Had better landings, General,” Rex said, paused, his helmeted head canted to the side, and she could hear the grin in his voice.  “Had worse ones, too.  Looks like we all made it.”

 

“Not all of us,” she said quietly, recalling Master Tiin’s death, the wave it sent through the Force, like something had been torn away.  But she squared her shoulders and turned, seeing Obi-Wan, Cody and his troopers heading toward her position, with Anakin at Obi-Wan’s other shoulder. 

 

Anakin did a double take when he saw her.

 

“You got tall,” he said lamely, and she let out a bark of laughter.  She supposed she had grown a lot since they’d last seen each other, putting away more food than most troopers even, and was now maybe half a hand shorter than he was.  Anakin laughed ruefully, as though he was aware of how silly it was to remark on her height here and now.  Then they were quickly joined by the troopers from the gunship that had followed with Anakin, and she thought it was Appo who was leading them.

 

“All present and accounted for sir.  Neat bit of boarding, this,” he said.

 

“Thanks Appo,” Anakin replied.  “Right well, I guess we better move out.  What was the plan before I saved the day?”

 

“Ah, some things never change,” Obi-Wan sighed.  “The plan was that we would reach and finally capture or kill Grievous, and that Rex and Cody would sabotage the ship to prevent an easy escape.”

 

“Sounds like a plan, Appo, find another sabotage point and…”

 

“Respectfully, sir, I think we should hold this hangar bay.  I don’t know how you Jedi plan to get off this ship, but we’ll need to go back the way we came,” Appo said, and Rex stepped up, nodding in agreement.

 

“Would give us more time, if we don’t have to do our own sabotage and extraction, right Cody?” Rex asked, turning to his brother.

 

“Exactly right, good thinking Appo,” Cody said, supporting his brother.  Anakin had the decency to look a little chagrined at getting put to rights by the troopers.

 

“Okay then, that sounds like an even better plan,” Anakin agreed.  Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, his lips twisting in a smirk behind his beard, and Anakin caught the look.  “Don’t start.”

 

Silently, Obi-Wan’s eyes widened and he put a hand to his chest as if to say _who me?_

 

“Ah, I missed this, the adventure, the camaraderie, the bickering,” Ahsoka drawled, checking her sabers at her hips and not waiting for her former Masters as she moved towards one of the doors out of the hangar bay.  Then she half turned and called out, “Try not to have too much fun without me, Rex!”

 

“I’m going to have so much fun without you, General.  Sorry.  We’re exploding things,” Rex retorted, heading off with Cody in the direction of the engines, and she laughed again.  She turned back around with a half-skip, seeing Anakin and Obi-Wan already trotting ahead to catch up to her.

 

“So Rex has a sense of humor now?” Anakin asked as they neared the doors.

 

“He always had a sense of humor, Skyguy, he just lets it out more,” she explained, and hoped that was all she’d be explaining about Rex for the next several hours.  “Anyway, are we here to fight or talk?”

 

“With you two, it’s often both,” Obi-Wan quipped, striding ahead them, the doors opening before them to reveal a horde of droids standing between them and their next goal.  Anakin turned his head to shoot her an incredulous look.

 

“Says the man who constantly talks in combat,” Anakin said in a stage whisper, drawing his saber and deflecting blaster bolts back into the mass of droids as effortlessly as ever.  Ahsoka did the same, using her twin blades to practically create a wall between her and the droids, arcing out with her shoto now and again when a droid got too close.

 

“I mean, who does he think we picked up the habit from?” she asked, putting on an affronted tone.

 

“I can hear you both!” Obi-Wan called out, stepping forward gracefully, ducking the arm of one droid and slicing upwards to cut another in half.  Anakin swept in right behind his old Master, cutting in two the droid Obi-Wan had avoided.

 

“We know!” they said simultaneously, striking out to the side, dismembering droids that tried to edge past them.  For all the intensity and seriousness of what was happening, in spite of the sheer number of people relying on them, _relying on her_ , it was like old times, the three of them, in the thick of it, and she couldn’t help but feel like everything was going to be alright.

 

* * *

 

“Padme, please, we need to get you to a shelter as quickly as possible,” Bail insisted.  Padme knew she was being stubborn, possibly needlessly stubborn, but something in her couldn’t cower and hide while Coruscant was being attacked.  Even if she was the size of a small moon.

 

She was about to reply when Padme heard Captain Typho’s hurried footsteps approaching.  Looking over, she saw the captain of her guard enter, even as Bail positioned himself between her and any possible threat while Sabe and Dorme drew their blasters and took aim.  Rolling her eyes, Padme stepped around her old friend, not as lightly as she used to, but at least an expanded belly was good for literally throwing weight around.

 

“My lady, Jedi Master…”

 

“I can announce myself, Captain,” Adi Gallia said, stepping through the doorway, her robes sweeping behind her.  With a flick of her eyes, she took in the aimed blasters, the harried expression on Bail’s face, and likely Padme’s own stubborn set to her jaw.  “All things considered, Senator, I think you should come with me.  Your handmaids may come as well, if you require them.”

 

“That is the best suggestion so far, and considering everyone is trying to get me to go _somewhere_ , I would rather go where I can be near the center of things rather than cower in a bunker,” she said, signaling to her old friends with the signs that they had developed years ago.  Without missing a beat, they began to gather a few essentials and we ready to go.

 

Bail sighed, but did not press the point.

 

“Very well, please, stay in contact with me if you can.  I will be in the Senate building,” he said, and Padme swatted him lightly on the shoulder.

 

“What would your wife say, going to a dangerous place when you were sending me to hide?” she asked.

 

“That your life isn’t exactly your own anymore,” he said gently, not a rebuke but a reminder.  Part of her hated this, hated that she had to curb her behavior because she was pregnant, as if being pregnant made her something other, something less than what she was.  But she also knew it was necessary, that if she wanted to keep these children, she would have to keep them safe.  And now, keeping them safe meant keeping herself far, far out of harm’s way.

 

“Damn you Bail Organa for being right,” she whispered harshly, feeling a lump form in her throat.  Then she got control of herself, and turned back to Master Gallia, who had stepped away from their exchange, giving them the illusion of privacy.  “We are ready to go, Master Gallia.  Captain, stay with the staff, help them get to the shelters if you would.  I believe I will be safe enough with the Jedi, and others will need you more than I.”

 

“Yes, my lady,” he said, bowing his head, retreating to look after the numerous people who served on her staff.

 

“Then let us be gone quickly, Senator,” Master Gallia said, leading Padme and her handmaids through the apartment building, down and to a landing bay, where a fast-looking speeder waited.  The Jedi hopped in, and while Dorme helped Padme in to the vehicle, the Senator had to mentally adjust to seeing Adi Gallia pilot such a craft.

 

The other women unlocked the controls, and they were off, flying through the panicked traffic like a blaster bolt back to the Temple.  She was cool, confident, and a good pilot.  Padme didn’t know why that surprised her.  All Jedi were at least adept if not highly skilled pilots.

 

“There is another reason, other than your general well-being and safety, for why I came to collect you, Senator,” the Jedi Master said, glancing briefly at Padme, and then shifting her gaze to the identically dressed women sitting behind them.

 

“Sabe and Dorme have been with me for years, Master Gallia.  I trust them with my life.” 

 

“We have trained for one thing, for all our lives, Master Jedi,” Sabe said, voice dry and matter of fact.

 

“We are prepared to defend our charge to the death, and protect all her secrets.  As we have always done,” Dorme told the Jedi in her softer tones.  Asking for no further clarification, because none was needed, Adi nodded.

 

“Skywalker has returned.  Current reports suggest he is with Kenobi and Tano on Grievous’s ship, and trying to either kill or capture the cyborg,” the Jedi told her, weaving in and out of traffic without a pause.  “I thought it best to ensure you were at a secure location, and had your chance to speak directly to him should the battle above go well.  Before anything else might happen.”

 

Padme felt too many things at the same time to handle any one thing.  Her heart felt light, he was _back_ , then heavy, _he still might not return from this_ , her breathing hitched, and her throat constricted.  Then she coughed and forced her hands to lie still, palms down, on her belly, composed.

 

“Thank you, Master Jedi.  Though I am not sure if this is a kindness or not,” Padme said as the Temple came into view.

 

“Neither am I,” Adi admitted, and Padme thought she detected a note of sympathy there.  But she had no more stomach for conversation, and she lapsed in to silence as they approached the Temple.

 

* * *

 

The last droid fell, and Ahsoka powered down her saber.  She hard Obi-Wan and Anakin do the same.  With a bounce in her step, she matched Anakin’s pace as they followed Obi-Wan to the elevator.  Calmly, as though they weren’t on an enemy ship they were fighting their way through, he pushed the call button.

 

They stood there together for a few moments, Ahsoka rocking on her feet in an effort to bleed off some of her amped up energy, and then the elevator dinged.  The doors opened revealing a troop of battle droids.  There was a moment of surprise on both sides as they looked at each other.  Then the droids raised their blasters to fire, but the Jedi were faster, slicing the droids apart.  Obi-Wan used his feet to clear a space for them to stand in the elevator, moving about the droid parts.  Anakin called on the Force and moved a few droid chassis out of the elevator, and Ahsoka followed him in.

 

She grinned as she beat Obi-Wan to the punch on pushing the button to the bridge.

 

“I notice you’ve modified your technique, Snips,” Anakin said.  She shrugged. 

 

“Had to.  Can’t come in low like I used to, so had to change things up a bit,” she explained. 

 

“I believe you are near to inventing your own strike-move, though I’ll have to study it more closely.  The way you use your shoto is unique,” Obi-Wan said.  Then he grinned.  “I’m sure there will ample time for study soon.”

 

“Still all in the name of study and mindfulness, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked dryly.  Obi-Wan looked up at his former apprentice, the picture of indignant shock.

 

“You wound me, Anakin,” he said, at which point the elevator screeched to a halt and they all rocked.  The doors opened, not to the bridge, but on to another corridor, this one full of droidekas in full shield mode.  As quick as anything, Anakin held Ahsoka up as she cut her way through the ceiling while Obi-Wan took point, deflecting blaster fire.  With a quick push of the Force, the cut metal flew up and away from her, and she scrambled up on top of the elevator car.  Anakin followed with a quick jump, and Obi-Wan was right behind him.

 

“Well, what now?  They’ll just aim _up_ soon enough,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin looked around.  Ahsoka concentrated, listening, and she thought she heard just what they needed. 

 

“There!” she pointed, another car, headed up at a high speed.  But they could make the jump.  The two men looked at each other, Anakin grinning while Obi-Wan looked rather put upon.  Still, they readied themselves, drawing on the Force and just as the car was about to reach them, they jumped.  Landing lightly, they cut through the roof of this car as well, dispatching more droids and settling in to wait again.

 

“I think this is one our better missions so far,” Anakin said brightly and Ahsoka groaned.

 

“You said it, you really said it.  Now it’s _going_ to go wrong,” she complained, almost like she was fourteen again.

 

“No it won’t,” Anakin protested.

 

“To be fair, Anakin, things do not always go right for us,” Obi-Wan pointed out, and Anakin rolled his eyes.

 

The elevator dinged, the doors opening, and they were on the bridge.  Grievous turned, his body hunched like a spider’s over his too-long legs.  He growled, that mechanical, menacing growl that grated all wrong on her montrals.  But now, it had an added bit of horror, because in it she could hear something like Echo’s voice, modulated by his implants and enhancements.  Echo, who had been made into mostly a machine by the Kaminoans.  She briefly wondered if something like this would be his eventual fate, and her jaw clenched at the thought.

 

“Kenobi,” Grievous drawled, hateful yellow eyes staring out from his mask.  He had made no move to attack, which was odd.  Grievous _hated_ Obi-Wan with a passion that bordered on insane.  Anakin stood beside her, flanking Obi-Wan, and he shifted his stance.  She could feel them both in the Force, ready to fight, ready to spring at a moment’s notice.  But Grievous always had a trick up his sleeve, a card to play.

 

“You will not stay here long, I think,” Grievous said, metallic voice smug.  Ahsoka’s hands flexed, ready to draw her sabers at a moment’s notice.

 

“And why is that?” Obi-Wan asked, voice cautious, careful, but mild.  He knew better than to let the droid general rile him. 

 

She felt a wave of exultation from Grievous, and he signaled to one of the droids.  It punched a few buttons and then she heard the screams.  Screams from everywhere.

 

“Did you think I would not prepare for this?  To destroy the Jedi?” Grievous taunted.

 

Over the comms, she heard the panicked cries, and the unmistakable sound of a lightsaber.

 

“Jedi!  With red blades!”

 

“They’re called Sith!  Oh, stars, help us!”

 

“Where are the Jedi?”

 

“Have the Jedi turned on us?!”

 

Civilians, down on Coruscant, under assault by the Sith.  Ahsoka felt her stomach drop, and Anakin’s anger rose in counterpoint to Obi-Wan’s ire, while her own vicious reaction tore through her.  Then her own comms crackled to life, and she heard the worst news of all.

 

“…Ss… Ahsoka… Ggg… General,” Rex’s voice came through the static, and she wondered if he had taken a hit to his helmet.  “Sith.  Sith here, in our way.  Can’t hold.  Retreating.”

 

“Don’t come back here,” Appo said.  “We got problems of our own.  Red blades.”

 

“Not going to leave you behind, Appo,” Cody said, his own comms clearer.  “We can take care of our Sith.”  Then there was a burst of fire, followed by silence.

 

“Well, what will it be, Jedi?  Will you save your men, will you save civilians and fight the Sith, show them the difference between you and the other lot?  Or,” he paused, igniting all four sabers, sabers stolen from the bodies of Jedi he had slaughtered.  “Will you fight me?”


	4. We Cannot Flinch

“Oh no,” Adi said, a half whisper, but Padme heard it.  Nothing good ever followed a Jedi saying that.  Master Gallia increased their speed, and Padme braced herself.  Dorme, ever at the ready, wrapped her arms around Padme from her spot in the rear seats, ready to serve as a shield.  While Padme had never had been comfortable with how willing her handmaids were to sacrifice themselves, the closeness of another person right now was markedly welcome.  She felt her breathing hitch and as they passed by the commercial district, there was an explosion.

 

The shockwave tore through the air, knocking some speeders out of the sky, sending them twirling, spiraling to the ground below, no hope of saving them.  Master Gallia took her hands off the controls, held her hands outstretched and Padme felt a pressure in her ears.  Sabe, eyes wide, reached forward, around the Jedi Master, taking the controls in hand.  They flew through the air, protected in a bubble of the Force, like a kind of shield.  Padme felt the heat of the blast, so close.

 

Then they were clear, and Master Gallia breathed in, collecting herself, and increased their speed.  Away from those screaming out in pain and confusion.  Padme watched with wide eyes as they left the scene, one glance at the Jedi Master telling her all she needed to know about the woman’s determination to see Padme to safety.

 

Almost gently, Master Gallia resumed the controls from Sabe, breaking every traffic law that stood between them and the Jedi Temple.  They would reach the Temple safely, Padme knew, but that was little comfort in the face of the devastation that was about to visit the capital of the Republic.

 

* * *

 

Mace Windu blocked, his blade stopping the downswing of the Sith assassin.  Not an apprentice, but clearly someone gone to the darkside.  They were humanoid in shape, but their body was covered in dark leather, their face masked.  All he could sense was the anger, hate and pride that emanated from this twisted creature.  Their swings were strong, but Mace knew how to turn such power against itself. 

 

The alarm had gone out, after the explosion in the commercial district, but widespread panic had already taken over.  Still when reports of red blades came in, he had mustered those fighting Jedi that were left on the ground and gone to meet the enemy.  As he sidestepped another wild stroke, executing a neat riposte, he wondered if this was what Asajj had meant, when she had told him to be ready.

 

Here, in the streets and walkways of Coruscant, Sith attacked Republic Citizens, people cried out for the Jedi, but he knew it would not be enough.

 

The riposte speared the Sith, right through the heart, and they slumped to the ground.  Mace turned to check on the civilians he had stepped in front of, a huddled family who looked at him with too-large, too-frightened eyes.  He cut the power on his saber, holding the hilt behind his back as he stretched out his other hand.

 

“It’s alright now, you’re safe,” he said as gently as he could.  “Make your way to the Temple.  The path is clear, and you will be safe there.”

 

They did not say anything, but stood, haltingly, terrified, they fled.  He did not know if they fled from the Sith, the general horror, or him.

 

There was no time to spare, Koth and Rancsis were also out in force, and Mace believed he had seen Adi return to the Temple.  Hopefully, she would take the field as well.  But he had to check, he had to try and see if there was some way out of this mess.  Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply, and looked for Shatterpoints, the spikes of glass in time that glittered for his mind’s eye alone.  Instead, he found a void, an empty, cold nothing where his perception of time and choice used to be.

 

That chilled him more than anything else ever could.

 

“General Windu, sir!” a clone voice on the comms cut through his self-indulgence, and he raised the receiver to his mouth.

 

“Windu here,” he answered, voice crisp, sure, in command.

 

“We’ve got another one at our position.”

 

“On my way.”  And he was off, to defend who and what he could.  He could only hope after this was over, there would be anything left worth having.

 

* * *

 

“They’re fine, focus on the critically injured,” Vokara Che barked at a student of Healing.  She knew that she should not over-stress the younger Healers, suddenly exposed to violence and trauma on a vast scale, but there was work to be done and she had no time to coddle them.  People were screaming, burned, torn apart, limbs hacked away by red blades, Jedi too late… too late.  Not enough of them left on Coruscant were fighters, and the city was too populous, too densely packed to keep everyone out of harm’s way.

 

She had set up the treatment center in the main entry hall of the Temple, kneeling now and again to send a surge of Healing to those who most needed it, and those who might best benefit.  Unfortunately, she could not justify such an expenditure of energy for everyone.  Some were past helping, and done save for the dying.

 

“Is there some way we can help, Master?” a calm, collected voice asked.  One Vokara didn’t know.  She turned and saw a pregnant woman standing in the middle of the chaos like the center of the eye of a storm.  Flanked by two women who were dressed identically, the woman had more the air of a battlefield commander than a woman who should be distressed by this turn of events.  She wanted to clarify who this woman was, not a Jedi certainly, and why she was in the Temple, and who those women were, then a memory triggered.

 

Senator Amidala, still keeping up those Naboo practices.

 

“Have any medical training, any of you?” Vokara asked sharply.  One of the handmaids inclined her head.

 

“Triage.  The other one of you, help people move around who can.  Get them sorted, coordinate with one of the Padawans.  Senator,” Vokara said, giving her a level look.  “Try not to exert yourself.  We don’t want to deal with an early labor today, I think, but if you can be of any comfort to the dying, well.  It wouldn’t go amiss.”

 

With a gesture from the Senator, the two women were off, about their tasks without question.  The Senator bowed her head, large brown eyes a mix of iron will and a deep compassion.

 

“A poor comfort, perhaps, but I will do what I can,” she said softly, going where Vokara pointed, to those who had no hope.  A cruel thing to do a woman who should be preparing to welcome her children in to the world, but birth and death were not ever really far apart, she supposed.

 

But there was more work to do, more souls to save, and Vokara Che had little time for introspection now.

 

* * *

 

Rex breathed out slowly, knowing too damn well that it didn’t matter how quiet he was, not when a Sith assassin was on your tail.  The kriffing barve had jumped out of _nowhere_ and cut down three men before anyone could have reacted.  They retreated sharply, and from what Rex had heard before he’d taken a clip to his helmet, Cody was holding just fine, though Appo was having trouble.

 

But if he knew anything, he knew that Grievous, that karking abomination, was using him and his brothers as leverage against the Jedi.  He had zero intentions of letting that plan work, however.

 

Keeping his back to the bulkhead, he did a quick survey, his helmet powered back up now, HUD operating normally.  He still had the majority of his squad, and they could take this Sith out.  This one was no Asajj Ventress, that was for sure.  That woman had been a proper terror, early in the war.  This one seemed less sure, less focused.  And all it really took to take down a Force user was men who knew what they were doing, working together without having to think about it.

 

There was just one thing he had to do first.

 

With a flick of his eyes, he brought up his comms, the back channel he used to talk directly to Ahsoka.  This would be for her montrals alone, but he was sure she’d pass along the important part of the message. 

 

“Take that kriffing droid general apart, _ner’jetti_ ,” he said, _my Jedi_ , the one term of endearment he felt that actually fit her.  She was no sweetheart, and beloved, well, it was probably too soon to call her that, to try to lay that claim.  But she was, and would always be _his_ Jedi.

 

“One lump of scrap coming up, Rexter,” she replied, and he could hear the sharp, fierce grin in the confident pitch of her voice.  _Rexter_ , not _maethor’en_ , so that meant Kenobi and Skywalker were near, which was good.  She had faced Grievous alone before, but with all three of them, Grievous was on a short road to the scrap pile. 

 

“You get me the nicest things,” he said, and he heard a sharp bark of laughter from her before he switched back to his squad comms.  He heard his men breathing, all of them knowing to stay as quiet as possible.  Rather than rely on the comms, he used hand signals, and his men slowly spread out through the engine room.  They had two jobs to do now.  One, get rid of that assassin.  Two, sabotage this engine room.

 

If they were really good at their job, they might just manage two tasks at the same time.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka grinned, her heart giving a little skip to know that Rex was alright, and then her focus narrowed.  She could sense Obi-Wan and Anakin do the same.  There was no hiding their intention from Grievous now, but for a few seconds, they stood motionless, her body weight shifting forward to the balls of her feet, her fingers flexing, ready to hold her sabers.

 

Then, in a breathtaking blur of motion, they all moved, headed right for each other, the Jedi drawing their blades even as Grievous came toward them swinging and deadly and faster than could be believed.  Obi-Wan went low, ducking under a blue blade while Anakin charged up the middle, giving his former Master time get in to a flanking position.  Ahsoka, still the lighter than the other two by far, called on the Force and went high, blocking with her dual blades as she leapt over Grievous, taking up a third flanking position. 

 

It was almost like a dance, back and forth across the bridge.  Then Grievous lashed out with a clawed foot at Obi-Wan.  Robbed of any choice, Obi-Wan jumped down to the observation deck, but not without calling on the Force to pull on the leg that had struck out at him, throwing Grievous momentarily off balance.  Taking advantage of his lapse, Anakin and Ahsoka pushed, sending the droid general over the edge, landing hard on his back, the hard, cruel sound of metal scraping against metal a low counterpoint to Grievous’s scream of rage.

Grievous turned on Obi-Wan in a flash, using heavy, hard overhand strokes to try to beat Obi-Wan down.  But she and Anakin jumped down, scoring long, dragging hits along his back.  With a snarl, Grievous turned to them, and Ahsoka felt a thrill of hope.  They were finally going to do it.  They were going to get Grievous.

 

Then the ship rocked, and an explosion boomed through the vessel.

 

“One engine down!” Cody called out.

 

Another boom, and Ahsoka felt the ship list, the anti-grav fighting hard to keep up as the massive ship began to fall toward the planet.

 

“Engine two down, and we got the Sith!” Rex said.

 

“New problem, men, we’re going to crash in to Coruscant!” Anakin yelled over the comms, and Grievous, still in a rage, managed to laugh darkly.

 

“Not so clever a plan, was it Jedi?” he taunted.

 

“We cannot let that ship crash!” Yularen cried, the comms now open for all the Republic to hear.  What kind of panic this was causing on the ground, Ahsoka couldn’t even begin to guess at.

 

“We can ram it, push it off course,” Erel offered.

 

Ahsoka ducked another swipe of a saber, even as she tried to think furiously.  Even with an emergency evacuation, that would still kill hundreds of people, and possibly even take down another ship with this one.  She wanted to curse in frustration, to try to spend some precious few seconds figuring out what to do, but they were locked in battle for their lives.  If they could just push a little harder, just find an opening…

 

There it was, there, Grievous was pushing Obi-Wan back again, and Ahsoka knew the droid general had a particular hatred for the man.  Anakin was trying to keep Grievous off balance, but it was like a switch had been flipped and Grievous was not going to give up, not now.  If he was going down, he was going to take out Obi-Wan Kenobi first.

 

But as Anakin took on two of four of the blades, Grievous brought down his other two on Obi-Wan, seeming to forget about her, or thinking he could fend her off with a kick or two.  The last time they had fought, she had been smaller, lighter, not as powerful in the Force.  He had not counted on her growing strength.

 

She lunged forward, and as one of Grievous’s wicked feet lashed out, she twisted her body, cutting down with her longer sabre, bending at the knees under his main chassis and striking upwards, into some of the remaining organic bits that he had.

 

His scream was unlike anything she had ever heard before, a harsh, high, metallic cry, almost overloading her montrals.  Wincing, she staggered back, pain ringing in her head, and seeing her falter, Anakin and Obi-Wan both reached for her.  That was all the opening Grievous needed to withdraw, jumping up back to the bridge, though he only had one good leg, and skittering away like a spider.

 

“Damn it!” she yelled, but Anakin surprised her by calmly powering down his sabre.

 

“We can’t let them ram this ship, it’d be suicide,” he said, looking to Obi-Wan then her.  “Buy me time, and I think I can put it in orbit.”

 

“Anakin, even you can’t,” Obi-Wan started to say.

 

“I can do this, Obi-Wan.  We can prevent a lot of death this way, even if Grievous gets away,” he said, and Ahsoka looked at Anakin from the corner of her eye.

 

“You feeling alright, Anakin?  This… well, never expected you to say something like that,” she said, but he didn’t reply to her directly.  Instead, he shook his head and turned away from them, taking up a position in the middle of the deck, as though the course of action was already decided.

 

“You better go,” he said to them, looking over his shoulder.  “Those droids upon the bridge will probably flee, but Grievous might try something.”

 

Ahsoka and Obi-Wan exchanged a started glance, but there was little they could do.  That, at least, was pure Anakin Skywalker, doing what he thought he should do regardless of what anyone else thought about it.

 

“I believe we have our orders, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan said, tone almost _prim_. 

 

“Wait, I thought I was in charge here,” she quipped, which made Obi-Wan smirk, just a little, and she heard a snort of amusement from Anakin.  Rolling her shoulders, she grinned, and then jumped back up to the bridge.  It was chaos, the B1s fleeing their stations.  Obi-Wan was right behind her, and they followed the trail of destruction, knowing they’d find Grievous at the end of it. 

 

* * *

 

Anakin took a deep breath and closed his eyes, extending his awareness in the Force outwards to the ship.  He could sense the columns of light that were Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.  Though, to his senses they both had changed while he had been gone.  Obi-Wan carried a mixture of peace and trouble that was strange, as though he had been able to set down a burden, but not before picking up another.   Ahsoka, too, had her complications.  A thread of darkness had almost infected her, though Anakin knew its source was not Sidious.  But in her blazed something… else.  Her and not.

 

Fainter, but still thankfully there, three contingents of _vod’e_ , sharp sparks that flocked together almost like a pack loth-wolves.  They had the same focus, and the same ability to work together without words or the Force connections he relied on.  He could sense them moving through the ship, converging on the last dark stain left, a blurred shadow of hate and anger.

 

Anakin’s mind shuddered at that, even as part of him yearned towards a being that was so free.

 

Even after his time away, the work he had put in to stilling his mind, to finding balance, he was not free of those dark threads, those tendrils that had been planted in his mind over a decade a go by a man who had a kindly face but a heart as void of light as a black hole.  Revan and Meetra had tried, oh they had tried, but they were not, themselves, Jedi.  Merely impressions left behind.  There was nothing they could directly.  It all had to come from him, and there had not been enough time to learn all he needed to know.

 

There had only ever been enough time to learn what might blunt the worst of it.

 

Counting the cards in his head, he did as Meetra had taught him, an old trick thought up by a man called Atton Rand, a man centuries dead.  Anakin breathed out, the numbers lending a distraction from the darkness around him and inside of him, letting the rest of his mind focus on the task at hand: the ship.

 

It was massive, heavy and wallowing like a pregnant bantha, just barely caught in the gravity of Coruscant.  It would build momentum and eventually be caught in an unstoppable fall.  Even if the defense batteries could blast it apart, the falling debris would cause untold damage and kill hundreds to thousands of people on the planet below.  But if he could just nudge it, put it on a slightly different course, balance against the gravity of the planet, it would go into an orbit, rendered safe for the time being.

 

Reaching in to the Force, Anakin felt the ship begin to slide, bit by bit, and he _pushed_.  Clenching his jaw, he strained against the pull of gravity and the laws of motion to correct the ship’s course.  Sweat broke out on his forehead, dripping down his brows.  If his eyes weren’t closed, it would be stinging them right now.  His breathing came in short gasps, and he felt lightheaded.

 

The ship was too heavy, the pull of the planet below was too much to fight.  He wasn’t strong enough.  For once, when sheer, brute force was required, he was coming up short. 

 

_Padme’s down there…_

 

Arms out stretched, his whole body tensed, he reached even deeper in to the Force, and he held on.

 

* * *

 

They were close.  So close to getting Grievous, when Ahsoka felt Anakin falter.  In such immediate proximity, their training bond had sprung back to life.  They had never severed it, and she could feel him weaken.  Her heart gave a lurch as she felt him putting too much of himself in to his task, like he always did when lives were on the line.

 

Obi-Wan must have felt it as well, because he staggered, his face suddenly grey.

 

“Not again, Anakin,” the older man muttered, even as he parried a blow from Grievous.   They fought in the tight, cramped space of a corridor, made slightly less cramped as their blades scored, deep lines along the bulkheads.

 

Over the comms she heard the troopers coordinating their efforts, and the occasional grunt of a dying man.  But she couldn’t let that stop her now.  None of it could.  If they could just _get_ Grievous, they might be able to rally the Republic, to get a final push to end this war quickly, to fight the enemy that was behind it all, to save themselves.

 

“What’s wrong, Kenobi?” Grievous taunted, another swing, a retreat, back and away, closer to his escape.  Ahsoka leapt between them, using her shorter blade to deflect down and away, sparks flying in the wake of Grievous’s blade is it arced along the metal wall. 

 

“Feeling tired?  I do not tire, but you do, with your weak body, _Jedi_ ,” the word was flung like a curse.  Behind her, she could sense Obi-Wan’s resolve turn to stone.  Without a quip or retort, Obi-Wan renewed his efforts, standing side by side with Ahsoka as they pushed him back. 

 

Anakin would have to wait.

 

Leaping up, Ahsoka kicked off against the corridor wall, going as high as she could, making Grievous divide his attention, and Obi-Wan struck, blocking wild thrust, twisting his body to the side, reaching out with his other hand, calling on the Force.  Ahsoka felt the power surge through Obi-Wan as the Jedi Master began not to use the Force to choke Grievous so much as push on his chassis from every direction at the same time.

 

He was _crushing_ Grievous, the last part of him that was organic.

 

Destroying him with the very upgrades he had so desperately sought after.

 

Grievous lashed out in agony, and Ahsoka sheered through two of his limbs with heavy, overhand cuts, and two sabers depowered and fell to the floor.  Grievous writhed backwards, away, but Obi-Wan advanced, keeping up the pressure, the metal straining and denting horribly under the weight of the Force, the weight of Obi-Wan’s will.  But it wasn’t enough.  Grievous was in too much pain to fight back, and Ahsoka did not care to see even a creature like Grievous suffer.

 

Quickly, efficiently, she strode over Grievous’s prone form, batting away his weak attempts to fend her off, and she cut her saber through his neck.  With a metallic sigh, his mechanical body went limp, his heart and lungs taking a few more moments to stop, but his yellow eyes blazed, blazed with fear and hate and Ahsoka wondered if they had done the right thing.

 

She turned to see Obi-Wan stand, sweat beading on his brow, and she could feel it too.  Anakin couldn’t wait any longer.  He needed their help.

 

Side-by-side, they clasped hands, closed their eyes, and breathed out slowly, both of them reaching along their own bonds to Anakin to bolster him, to lend him their strength.  Digging deep, she gave him everything she could, as he had done after Barriss had tried to kill her in her cell under the Temple.

 

As she continued to feed him power, something in her stirred, something she had felt once before, like the flutter of wings on her face, and light seemed to burn along the inside of her skull.

 

Then everything went black.


	5. Let You Not Mistake Your Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for no Sunday update. Family things were going on, but we'll be back to normal come Sunday. I hope everyone had a happy holiday time. <3

“Ahsoka!”

 

She blinked, the darkness fading from her eyes, though everything felt off-kilter, like she had been knocked in to a wall.

 

“Ahsoka!”

 

Obi-Wan knelt beside her, his hand on her shoulder.   She was kneeling now on the cold, metal floor.  She looked up in to his worried face and nodded.  Together, they stood.  Turning her head, she saw Grievous’s body, his crushed chest chassis, his severed head.  He was finally gone, dead, the creature that had hunted and haunted Jedi for years.  It almost didn’t feel real.

 

“General Kenobi,” she heard over the comms.  Rex.  “What happened?”  His voice was tight, controlled, but with an edge to it.

 

“I’m fine, Rex,” she said with more confidence than she felt.  “Just a bit of feedback from helping Anakin.”  Obi-Wan shot her a disbelieving glance, but said nothing, for which she was grateful.

 

“Copy that, General,” he said, retreated back into his professionalism.  “We’re en route back to the extraction point.  Cody’s already backing him up.”

 

“Belay that Commander,” Obi-Wan said, and Ahsoka frowned, not caring for another General ordering about her men, but she had blacked out for a bit, and it was Obi-Wan.  He typically knew what he was doing.  “I have a feeling we might need your assistance.  Head for the bridge.”

 

There was a significant pause from Rex, which made Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rise in mild shock.

 

“Better do it, Rex.  Obi-Wan’s often right about these things,” she said.

 

“Yes, sir,” Rex acknowledged, and she heard him bark orders at his men.

 

“You think something happened to Anakin, don’t you?” she asked as he picked up Grievous’s severed head.  He jury-rigged a carrying net and slung it over his shoulder. 

 

“I _know_ something’s happened to Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, testing the heft of his burden.  Ahsoka considered that statement, and huffed as they jogged back through the lightsaber-scarred corridors of the ship.

 

“Considering something is always happening to Anakin, I suppose that’s a safe call,” she remarked, her tone dry, but Obi-Wan did not seem to find any humor in it.  Something had happened, she knew, and whatever it was made Obi-Wan concerned.  And any time Obi-Wan was concerned, Ahsoka knew they were in for trouble.

 

* * *

 

_“You’re holding back, Anakin.  Still.  I do not see why,” Revan said, a small measure of exasperation sneaking in to his voice.  For all that Revan was far more patient than Meetra, he still was prone to flashes of irritation.  Especially when he thought Anakin was falling short, which was more and more often lately.  But that was the story of Anakin’s whole Jedi life: falling short, never being good enough, even though he was powerful._

_“No, you wouldn’t,” Anakin snapped, and Revan flinched even though he was not material.  Meditation every night with one or both of the old, long dead Jedi had begun to take its toll.  He had too little rest, too much to practice, to remember, to_ fight.  _He had to fight the Separatists, the slavers that tried to choke Republic routes this far out, and the war inside his own head._

_He was tired.  So tired.  Slumping forward, he let his tiredness show to Revan in a way he could not with anyone still living.  The living relied on him, the dead, the dead only tried to show him a way.  They would gain nothing from it, and would not lose heart from his failure._

_“Anakin, I know better than most what it is to walk the path to redemption,” Revan said quietly.  Anakin looked up, and though the holoprojection was thousands of years old, and only an impression of a man long dead… the sorrow and regret in Revan’s eyes was real and deep.  “I know how fraught the path can be, how can be so torn between warring instincts.  Because the Jedi still teach you to follow your instincts, but sometimes those very instincts can be wrong, or not always agree.”_

_“Then how… how do you find a way?” Anakin asked through the thickness in his throat._

_“By remembering that it is not about me.  For all that I worked to right what I had wronged, to salvage what I had destroyed, it was not for my own sake.  It never could be.  It was always for those I loved.”  He paused, took a breath.  “Perhaps I should tell you of her, of Bastila, and what she taught me.”_

_“What… what did she teach you?” he asked, surprised.  Revan did not like discussing Bastila.  Revan looked to the distance, a bittersweet smile on his lips._

_“Forgiveness.”_

 

The blackness retreated and Anakin shook his head, the memory fresh in his mind, the word _forgiveness_ ringing in his mind.  He sat up sharply, and then winced, holding his head.  It ached.

 

“Welcome back, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin looked up, finally taking in his surroundings.  He was seated on the floor of a gunship, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka flanking him, the head of General Grievous staring at him balefully from the other side of Obi-Wan.  Anakin blinked at the head.

 

“So, I didn’t miss much, did I?” he asked dryly, and was rewarded to hear Ahsoka’s half-stifled giggle.

 

“Oh not much, just the death of General Grievous and you putting that massive ship in to orbit to prevent it from crashing in to Coruscant.  With a little help from us, of course, but you still passed out,” Ahsoka quipped.  Obi-Wan sighed, scrubbing his hand with his face and muttered something.  Anakin couldn’t hear it, but it was probably something along the lines of _you two will be the death of me_.

 

“Yes, Ahsoka has summarized events rather succinctly,” Obi-Wan said.  “We’ve coordinated with Yularen and Kersos in orbit, the Separatists are withdrawing.  There are still Sith agents down on Coruscant, however, and we need to do what we can to track them down.”

 

 _Sith agents_.

 

That was new, and yet not new.  The Sith had long operated in the shadows, but once, once they had strode proudly, defiantly between the stars to impose their will, according to Revan and Meetra.  Was this the start of that all over again?  What was Palpatine doing?  It wasn’t clear, and headed back to the planet, Anakin knew he had to be careful.  So very, very careful.  One wrong move, and it would all be over, and he would lose everything.

 

He couldn’t let that happen.

 

“Landing at the Temple now, sirs,” one of the men in the cockpit said, jogging him out of his thoughts.  Anakin stood, using the hull of the gunship as a brace.  That was when he noticed the men were all decorated in 332nd orange, not 501st blue.  He frowned and was about to answer when Rex removed his helmet and gave a report.

 

“Commanders Appo and Cody are with us on their own ships, sir.  Came through alright, though Appo’s squad took the heaviest losses from those red-blade barves,” Rex growled.  “They were in the open, couldn’t cut of angles of attack.”

 

“Thanks, Rex,” Anakin said, clapping his former Captain on the shoulder.  Anakin had missed the man’s steady presence, but something was different about Rex now, though Anakin wasn’t sure what it was.  Though Appo had come into his own, seeing Rex working with Ahsoka, Anakin was still glad he had asked the man to leave the 501st for her.

 

Rex nodded, though Anakin doubted Rex knew what had flown through his head.  Still, it felt like he might have.

 

Anakin felt the slight jolt when they landed, and already his legs felt steadier.  When they disembarked, Anakin sought out for Appo’s blue-painted helmet, and felt better for seeing it.  The man gave him a brief nod and the _vod’e_ began to coordinate with local ground teams.  The men peeled away, out to help their brothers protect the civilians of Coruscant, while a Temple Guardian direct the Jedi to the main entry way of the Temple, which was unusual.  There, they found the entire hall turned over to the Healers, with Master Che in the center, a whirlwind of barking orders, a soft voice for injured civilians, and a river of power as she Healed the wounded. 

 

“Vokara!” Obi-Wan shouted over the din.  “They tell me you’re the ranking Master left here.  What’s going on?”  She looked up briefly as they approached, but then kept about her work, expecting them to follow along as she did so.  Anakin turned to Ahsoka, and they both rolled their eyes at Vokara Che’s usual manner.  It was good to be back with Ahsoka again, to be able to feel her light and enthusiasm and good humor, though it was tempered now, more like a bar of durasteel than the effervescent thing it had been before.

 

“We’re spread thin out there.  The _vod’e_ are making a difference, and it seems they’re rather good at taking down Force users,” she said darkly, and Anakin could tell she knew about the chips.  She would, of course, being a Healer.  Those chips were a medical problem on top of a tactical one.   Vokara’s eyes flicked to the head Obi-Wan still carried.  It was having an effect on the people around them, civilians and soldiers alike coming alight as they saw that the creature that had terrorized the Republic for years was dead.  “Seems like one problem is taken care of, though.”

 

“Indeed.  I need to get to Mace, or Adi, anyone really, we need to capitalize on this,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin nodded in agreement. 

 

“For now, Mace’s orders are clear.  Get out there, save civilians.  Then we can talk about the rest,” Vokara said.  Anakin could sense Obi-Wan’s flare of frustration, but it was tamped down quickly, too quickly for Vokara to notice, thankfully.

 

“We better get to it, then,” Ahsoka said, her voice bright and cutting through the darkness. 

 

“You’re right, Snips, come on, Obi-Wan let’s go,” Anakin said, for once having to chivvy Obi-Wan around.  Something was bothering his former Master, but what, Anakin had no idea. 

 

“Yes, yes of course,” Obi-Wan sighed, and handed Grievous’s severed head off to one of the Temple Guardians for safekeeping, for later proof of ending that threat once and for all.  They were headed out the main doors, and Anakin was already coordinating with Appo, to get to the men and lead them in getting those karking Sith agents off this planet, when he heard a familiar voice call out to him.

 

“Knight Skywalker?” Padme said, and he froze.  He hadn’t sensed her, in and among all the chaos of the entryway-turned-medical, but he really should have expected her here.  In the thick of it.  At least, he thought to himself, she wasn’t out there, blaster in hand, fighting off the Sith.  Half smiling to himself at the thought, he turned, not seeing the wide-eyed concern on both Obi-Wan’s and Ahsoka’s faces.

 

And there she was, his Angel.  His heart skipped a bit, and then his brain finally processed what his eyes and Force senses were telling him.

 

Padme stood there, beautiful and bloody from working with the dying, stood there.  Pregnant.

 

* * *

 

Padme knew it was foolish and selfish, but she had not seen him in so long, and then there he was, tall and striding through the entry hall like he had never left.  They had parted relatively well, but Anakin’s darkness had been growing.  She had worried so much for him, but seeing him now, he looked… lighter.  Not free, not exactly, but less burdened.

 

There was no disguising her state, and his expression of shock cut to her heart. 

 

“It is good to see you are well.  Master Kenobi and Knight-Errant Tano were worried for you,” she said, not saying that she was worried, too.  She was all too aware of the eyes and ears around them, and how the wrong thing could be too easily said and noticed even in the middle of all this chaos.

 

He swallowed his surprise with a visible effort of will.

 

“It is good to see you are safe, as well, Senator,” he said, an emotive warble in his voice.  “But I must go, assist my men.  I…”  He glanced down to her belly, and she could see the confusion and worry in his eyes war with something she had not seen in some time.  _Hope_.

 

“Please give my regards to your handmaids, and be well,” he finished, bowing his way out, and following Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, who watched Anakin with a too-alert wariness, as if they were ready to pounce on him in case he revealed too much.  But he hadn’t, she didn’t think.  Instead, he had used their old code.  He would find her later, and they would talk.

 

But she had been able to do this much, this small thing, of letting him know as soon as she could.  Hand on her belly, she turned back to the woman who was about to breathe her last, and make sure she was not alone for her end.

 

* * *

 

“Rex, what’s your location?” Ahsoka asked, jogging out of the Temple, hopping on the first vehicle she spotted, a speederbike in relatively good shape, and headed out in to the city, where the fighting was still dragging on.  Unlike on a droid ship, where the Sith would stand out as a dark burn in the Force, or be trapped by close quarters, they could sneak through the city as well as anyone, screened by the sheer amount of life all around them.

 

“We’re in CoCo Town.  Got one here, but they keep slipping through the perimeter.  Too many womp-rat holes for them to use,” Rex growled.  The wind whistled past her montrals, but the comms were loud and clear on planet as connected as Coruscant.  Luckily, CoCo Town wasn’t far by speederbike, especially with all non-military traffic grounded and no need to pay attention to any speed laws.  She spotted the fight from several meters distant, running through what looked like an apartment bloc, blaster fire bright flares while the red blade hummed out its dark song, grating along her Force senses.  Her own blades still weren’t quite right anymore, her attempt at re-attunement a null prospect.  She hadn’t been able to summon the concentration for it, but they still sang to her their same song, and that would be enough for now.

 

Opening the throttle, she sped for the apartment block, throwing a burst of the Force ahead of her, sending her speederbike careening at the Sith agent, like she was broadsiding a ship.  The Sith vaulted out of the way, of course, but it bought Ahsoka time to leap to stand at the fore with her men.

 

“Thought that might have been you, General,” Rex said through his helmet’s vocoder, his dual blaster pistols at the ready, his remaining five men behind them in a staggered formation.  She brought her sabers to life, a bright green and a yellow-green mix, they flickered at the edges, but they held.

 

“You know me well, Rex,” she replied, baring her teeth and she smiled. 

 

“How sweet, come to rescue your clones, Jedi,” the Sith agent snarled from the shadows, but Ahsoka could sense them this close, a dark stain on the Force, though not as intense as others she had felt.  It felt strangely… unfinished.

 

“They really didn’t get any banter lessons, did they?” she asked archly.  Rex grunted with subdued amusement.  The Sith paused, as though unsure about not getting a direct response, and then Ahsoka struck.

 

* * *

 

Blue blade crackled against red, and Obi-Wan clenched his jaw as the Sith agent pressed forward, almost consumed with a hungry, hateful need to kill.  It was grating and raw to be around, but Obi-Wan held his focus and his ground.  It would give Cody and his men time to evacuate the building, getting civilians out of the way.

 

“All clear, sir,” he heard Cody say, and Obi-Wan breathed out, letting a smirk play about his lips.

 

“I think we’ve had enough of that, now, haven’t we?” he asked the Sith agent, which tilted its masked head in confusion at him.  Gathering his strength, Obi-Wan swept the Force out from underneath the Sith’s legs.  It rolled away, but Obi-Wan was on the attack now, and he would not stop.

 

But even as he fought, even as blades clashed and threats were snarled, he thought of what had happened on orbit, of how Anakin had drawn on both his and Ahsoka’s strength, and the strange energy that had come from the young Togruta.  He had been curious when he had told her about re-attunement, but that energy, that light.  It was a mystery, and there were too many more pressing matters.  He only hoped it was a mystery that would not blow up in their faces.

 

The Sith lashed out again, but Obi-Wan blocked easily, looped his blade, and took the being’s arm at the elbow.  It howled in agony, and Obi-Wan ended its pain, without viciousness or ire, without anger or frustration, but because he would always stand between the innocent and those sought only to destroy.

 

* * *

 

Anakin staggered back to the Temple, seeing other Jedi approaching.  The fight had gone on for the rest of the day, and in to most of the night.  They were all exhausted.  Some Jedi were half supported by _vod’e_ , while others strode in stubborn defiance of what their own bodies were telling them.  He noticed Obi-Wan and Ahsoka walking unsupported, but they sagged as he wanted to, especially because of the energy reserves they had drawn on while in orbit.  Trotting to them, which was about as fast as he could go, he fell in to step with them, none of them saying anything for a few moments.  Just being together again, the three of them, it was enough.

 

But there was something he had to do.

 

“Obi-Wan, Ahsoka,” he began, but Obi-Wan held up his hand, looking weary, but it was a physical exhaustion, not a mental one.

 

“Go, Anakin.  We will all speak later.  I _must_ talk to Mace.  We cannot sit idle, we must move quickly, and I intend to ensure that we do not lose all on the heels of victory here,” he said, and Anakin grinned to see Obi-Wan’s usual mixture of frustration and determination.

 

“Thank you… both of you for… well, everything,” he said, and Ahsoka grinned.

 

“Of course, Skyguy.  Go on, I’ll look in on the 501st for you,” she offered, and his heart was so full of love for these two, the man who had been all but a father to him, and the young woman who had been like a little sister, or nearly a daughter, all grown up now.  He nodded, and went to find Padme.

 

* * *

 

Padme dozed on the couch in the quarters the Jedi had shown her to, the lights set to low.  Sabe and Dorme were there as well, sitting in low chairs, more alert than she, their training giving them the stamina to push further than most humans could, without the aid of the Force of course.  When the knock came, however, Padme sat bolt upright.  Sabe stood and went to the door, her hands in her sleeves, ready to use her knives.  Dorme stood half over Padme, hand on her shoulder, poised to protect her at whatever cost.

 

“Who is it?” Sabe called.

 

“It’s Ana… Knight Skywalker,” she heard Anakin say, and her heart leapt.  Sabe and Dorme exchanged a look, and Padme could detect the relief there.  Sabe opened the door, and as Anakin stepped in, the two women stepped out.

 

Barely waiting for the door to shut, Anakin was at her side, and they held each other close, his hands on her face, drinking her in with his eyes, as she touched his face, his neck, his chest, reassuring herself he was here, he was real.  Then tears began to fall, and she hated this, hated the hair-trigger emotions, but he wiped away her tears with his thumb, and she saw tears of his own.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice thick.  “I wasn’t here.”  She pulled away and shook her head fiercely.  The last thing she wanted was for him to blame himself.  There was no way to tell him safely, and so he had not known. 

 

“Ani, you didn’t know because I didn’t tell you.  You know how the comms are,” she told him, and he nodded.  “But they’re healthy.  Obi-Wan and Adi say so.”

 

“… _They_?!” he all but squeaked.  She laughed, a wild, half-mad thing, her fear and exhaustion spilling out any which way it could.

 

“Yes, they.  Twins.  Obi-Wan… he found out first.  I could no longer hide from Jedi.  Then Adi, because she works with the Senate, well, it was impossible to keep this from her.  Neither of them have told the Council that you… that they’re yours,” she said quickly, trying to lay it all out for him, to make him see that he had more friends, more trust than he thought. 

 

He looked down at her belly, his hand hovering over her for a moment.  Brushing the hair out of his face, she watched his eyes, which then flickered up to her, asking a question he shouldn’t even have to ask.  She smiled and nodded.  A shy, wondrous grin teased at his lips, and he looked down again, placing his hand on the rounded swell of her belly, and he closed his eyes, sensing in the Force.

 

For a few moments, he was completely silent, and then he let out a delighted laugh.

 

“They’re beautiful, Padme,” he told her, his blue eyes so full of love that it seemed to pour out of him.  This was the Anakin she had fallen in love with, this was the Anakin she would hold dear to her all her life, this man who loved so much, with an intensity to rival the stars themselves.  “They’re so beautiful.  And I promise you, I will keep them safe.”

 

Then, there, for a moment was the Anakin that worried her.  The one that feared, and did much out of that fear, as much as he did it out of love.

 

“They have many protectors already, Anakin.  Trust them, please, and know you aren’t alone,” she implored, and he bowed his head, tilting forward against her.

 

“I know, Padme, I know,” he said, “I’ll try to remember.  There’s so much to remember, sometimes.”

 

“Oh, Ani,” she whispered, holding him to her, and it was not long before sleep claimed them both.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan was exhausted.  While Anakin had gone to see Padme, and Ahsoka had gone to check on the 332nd and the 501st, he had other work to do.  Tracking down Mace had not been difficult, and the man looked tired.  They were all tired.  The city-planet was in shock, the Senators were already scrambling for position according to Adi, and the Jedi and Republic forces were battered though victorious.

 

“We cannot rest now, Mace.  We must press the advantage, and have a quick surrender now that they have lost their primary general, and Dooku has all but disappeared on them,” Obi-Wan argued.  “If we can end the war, then we can regroup and focus on the real enemy.”

 

“You do not have to convince me, Obi-Wan,” Mace said, holding up a hand.  “But you might be needed here, to stabilize Skywalker.  Or to help us get him to explain what he has been doing and where Master Yoda has gone to.”

 

“I think you will not need my help for that, or if you need help, rely on Ahsoka.  She has always had a gentler touch with him than I, and he listens to her more easily,” Obi-Wan suggested, still keeping back the information about Padme from Mace.  One impossible problem at a time.

 

“You wish to leave immediately, I take it,” Mace sighed.

 

“Yes, I can escort some Senators and we can begin negations before anyone has a chance to keep this war going,” Obi-Wan insisted.  Mace bowed his head for a moment, brow furrowed in thought.  Then he looked up, dark eyes hard.

 

“Very well.  Go, and go quickly.  Be out of the system before the day-cycle, and you have a leg to stand on, legally.  I don’t want to know who you’re taking or why, just do it,” Mace said, and Obi-Wan gave the man a sharp nod, and left.

 

There were a few people he had to see before he left, but first, he had to get to Bail Organa. 

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka glared at Obi-Wan.  She was damn near ready to fall over, not that she’d ever admit that, but he had called her the space port where the 212th were leaving in the small hours of the morning.  Anakin was there, too, looking even more put out than she was.  He had only just been able to see Padme again, she supposed.  She got to spend every day with Rex.

 

“Before I leave, I need to tell you both something,” he began, and she and Anakin traded a glance, his expression telling her he was as in the dark as she was.  They shrugged, and turned their attention back to Obi-Wan in the middle of gunships taking off.

 

“On Grievous’s ship, Anakin, you pulled on both of us rather strongly, and it did cause Ahsoka to black out, however briefly, but something else… happened, just for a moment.  Ahsoka, do you remember anything about that, just before you lost consciousness?” he asked.  She was about to say no, to deny she could remember anything at all, but she could remember something, a light, a fire in her skull, the cry of a bird, the flutter of wings.

 

“A fire bird,” she said without filtering the impression.  “A bird of light.  I don’t know what that means, or what it is, but that’s what I remember.”

 

Anakin and Obi-Wan exchanged a glance then, both of them looking concerned.

 

“We have too much to do to investigate, Ahsoka, but you must stay close to Anakin and Padme.  I think it is important,” Obi-Wan said, his blue eyes bright and intense in the pre-dawn gloom.  She nodded, unsure how to respond to this strange insistence from Obi-Wan.  Then the older man turned to Anakin.  “And if she says something, listen to her.”

 

“I… I will,” Anakin said, not even making the attempt at humor.  Obi-Wan inclined his head, apparently gratified.

 

“Very well.  Hopefully, I shall return to you, this damned war over, and we can get to the real business at hand,” he said, saying no more than that.  He didn’t need to.  The Sith had made their presence known, violating the Rule of Two, and whatever was going on, it was going to take all the far-flung Jedi strength back here to fight it.  He clapped a hand to both their shoulders, and she saw then that she had grown taller than Obi-Wan, and looking _down_ at him was still a strange sensation.

 

“May the Force be with you both,” he said.

 

“Force be with you,” she answered.

 

“And you, Obi-Wan,” Anakin replied.

 

With that, Obi-Wan boarded the gunship, Bail Organa and some other Senators she didn’t know standing beside him.  They watched him ascend until the gunship was out of sight.  Then it was just her and Anakin an empty, still spaceport.

 

She looked at him, wondering what had happened to him, all these months away.  But she doubted this was the time for questions and answers.  She hoped there would be time.  Soon.

 

“You probably want to get back, huh?” she asked.

 

“Missed you, too, you know, Snips,” he said, his blue eyes bright in spite of their mutual exhaustion.

 

“I know.  But… I know how much she means to you.  You should go,” she told him.

 

“And what about you?  You coming back to the Temple at least?  We can go together,” he offered, and she tried not to visibly squirm.  But of course this was when Anakin Skywalker actually noticed someone’s emotional discomfort.  “Ahsoka, is something going on that I should know about?  Or… no, I’m not your Master anymore, not really.  I mean, is there something that you want to tell me?”

 

“I… how did you know, Anakin?  How did you know how it was her?” she asked, and Anakin’s gaze slid back up to the dark sky.

 

“I’m probably not the best example of this, Ahsoka, but if there’s someone you feel that way about, well, nothing I say will help you figure it out.  We all feel it differently,” he said, facing her again.  She huffed.

 

“That’s not very helpful,” she griped.  He laughed, a frayed thing around the edges, but with actual mirth at least.  It caught her up and made her laugh too, hard enough that she felt her eyes water.

 

“You don’t have to tell me who it is, but please, tell me it’s not Bonteri,” he said, and she swatted his shoulder playfully.

 

“No, it’s not, though I don’t know what you have against him,” she said, wiping the tears away from her eyes.

 

“You need someone who can keep up with you, and that is not Bonteri,” Anakin said, and Ahsoka had to concede that point.  She took a breath, counting on Anakin being more stable now than he had been in months, in whatever comfort he had been able to find in Padme being housed at the Temple and safe, in the fact that he had trusted her with so much of his own secrets.

 

“It’s Rex,” she said, and her heart hammered, like a panicked thing.  She watched him closely, and he blinked.  He frowned, then opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, took a breath, tried again, and then stopped himself.

 

“Anakin?” she asked, nudging him gently.  He shook his head, sighed, and raised an eyebrow at her.

 

“He makes you happy?” he asked.  She nodded, too stunned by his reaction to speak.  “Then I guess that’s all that matters.  I can’t very well tell you not to, after my sterling example.”

 

“Huh.  You know, I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right.  I suppose it’s all out in the open now.  Sort of.  Between you and me at least.  That’s good, I think.  So.  Go on, get back to her,” she said, nudging him again.  He grinned back, and he nudged her in return, playful, light, like how things used to be.

 

“Not much more we can do now, I guess.  You better get back to him,” he returned, and she felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, because she wouldn’t be facing down the barrels of Jedi tradition alone.  Maybe she never would have been.  She felt her lips quirk up, and he responded in kind.

 

They backed away from each other slowly, and then turned, headed in opposite directions, but to the same general destination, a place where they could find a moment’s peace in the arms of someone they loved.

 

* * *

 

Sheev Palpatine reviewed the reports of the attack that had taken place that day and night.  It was problematic that Grievous had died, but it was not ultimately necessary for the rest of his goals that the creature lived.  There were other routes, other ways that this could still be turned to serve his ends.   And though many of his agents had not survived, they had never been meant to, and their first showing had not been entirely abysmal. 

 

Even better, it was being bandied about that Skywalker had put that ship in orbit, it made him out to be even more of a gallant hero than he already was.  After so long away, he was out of the public eye, but now he was firmly back in it.  A hero of the Republic once more, ready for the adoration he had always so ardently desired.

 

Yes, the boy was within the sphere of his influence again, and Kenobi had left with a cadre of Senators that had tried to oppose him in the past, an act he could easily spin to his advantage.  It left the boy very much without support, and Amidala within his power as well.  Only the Togruta brat remained, as someone who could interfere, and though she had proved surprisingly resilient, she was not a power in her own right.

 

It was time to make his final play, while the Jedi were in disarray, and the Republic staggered from the Order’s lapses.  When public opinion could be swayed any way he choose, and the Senate was lacking its most bothersome voices.

 

It was time take control, of the galaxy, of his destiny, of all that should be _his_.


	6. Too Many Frightful Proofs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGH! SO SORRY for the delayed chapter. AGAIN. The holidays (and the first day back in the real world) have been crazier than I counted on. SUNDAY. I will update on SUNDAY again.
> 
> On with the show!

Anakin blinked blearily as the chime on Padme’s datapad went off.  He had stayed the night in her quartesr, in the Temple no less, but it seemed that after yesterday’s attacks the Jedi were either too busy to notice flagrant violations of the Code or were too tired to bother with them at the moment.  Either way, he rolled over in the bed and frowned as he saw it was a message for Padme.  Looking over at his sleeping wife, and by the stars didn’t she look beautiful, he debated waking her. 

 

Normally the message chime would have her up and about in seconds flat, but being pregnant must make her tired, not to mention the work she did helping the injured yesterday.  Still, she would hardly thank him for keeping it from her.

 

“Angel,” he said softly, touching her shoulder.  Padme stretched and opened her eyes, those amazing brown eyes, and smiled up at him.

 

“Good morning,” she said, a peaceful contentment in her face before she recognized the chime.  Without so much as a good-morning kiss, she took the pad from his hands and opened the message, propping herself up on some pillows.

 

“What is it?” he asked.  She didn’t reply, but instead tapped at the screen again, a frown creasing her brow.  He peered at pad over her shoulder as she called up a news site.

 

“… surprise announcement,” the human newscaster said.  “For those just joining us, we will replay the video now.” 

 

The newscaster disappeared, replaced by the Chancellor, and Anakin’s mind recoiled.  He was in his robes of office, sitting behind his desk in his luxurious office, the deep reds oversaturated on the vid.  The man looked sorrowful, regretful, but Anakin wanted to snarl at the sight of him, because of what he had done to Anakin’s mind.

 

But Padme didn’t know.  He should tell her so much, but then the video played, and Anakin felt his heart sink further than he thought possible.

 

“It is with a heavy heart that I extend my condolences to those who lost family and friends yesterday in that horrific Separatist attack.  The first thing I wish to do is assure all citizens of the Republic that those who died will not be forgotten, and their families will be looked after.  That is what this Republic stands for, after all, whose those Separatists do not understand: that we are meant to stand _together_ , not apart. 

 

“While I have been informed by the Jedi Order that General Grievous is no more, that he can no longer threaten the good people of this galaxy, I cannot ignore the devastation the Order allowed to happen.  I spent much of the night searching for answers, and there was only one that made any sense.  My decision was further reinforced when I was told that not a few hours ago, General Kenobi and a cadre of Senators have left to negotiate with the Separatists, claiming that the Emergency Powers Act granted them the authority to do so. 

 

“Good people of the Republic, this is not the case.  As your elected leader, I cannot sit idly by while splinter factions within the Republic deviate from established protocol and the chain of command.  It has also become clear that while the Jedi have done much good for the Republic, their unorganized, highly individualized efforts are too haphazard for what this war requires.

 

“Thus, it is with a heavy heart that I officially sanction the Senators who have gone to negotiate with the Separatists, revoking their powers within the Senate and vowing not to honor any promises they have made until at such time a formal diplomatic envoy can be sent.  Further, I hereby require that the Jedi Order place itself under my direct command, fully integrating their efforts with top military personnel.  We cannot allow another tragedy like this to visit our world again, and I promise all of you, Republic citizens, that this war will be brought to a close, but on _our_ terms.  This galaxy will be united again, and we shall finally have the organization that is necessary to do so.  Thank you, and may your gods and the stars see you safely on your journeys.”

 

The pad fell from Padme’s fingers, her expression of shock and horror all too apt.  Anakin’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists, and he desperately wanted to hit something.  It fit, it all fit, and it would work.  Palpaine would get direct control of the army, of negotiations, of the Order.

 

Of him.

 

This couldn’t happen.  It had to be stopped.

 

“Bail… Mon, Anakin, he has the power to do this, and no one can stop him.  Gods and little fishes, this is… this is tyranny.  We wanted to be free of authoritarian decrees, but oh what have done?” she asked, more of herself than of him, he knew.  Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she stood, her nightgown swishing about her ankles. 

 

“Padme, where are you going?” he asked, suddenly very frightened.  Padme had that look in her, that righteous, fighting look, when she thought something _wrong_ was happening.

 

“I’m going to find Adi, then we can get Lux and Riyo and the others.  They’re still here, and we are going to protest this.  The Senate must sit and check this power grab.  And the Order?  He’s going to turn the Order into his strong arm, I just know it.  And you don’t have the political capital to stop it, not even with Master Gallia at full tilt, which she couldn’t be because some of our power block is gone…”

 

“Padme, stop,” he said, taking her the shoulders, halting her mid-rant.  “You can’t do this.”

 

“What do you mean I can’t do this?  Anakin, if you try to say something like ‘because you’re my wife,’ or ‘because you’re pregnant,’ so help me, I will kick you,” she said hotly, and then exhaled sharply.  “But in the knee, because I love you.  Still, I cannot stand by while the man turns himself to an _Emperor_.  The man _I_ helped put in this position.”

 

“Padme, no, please, stop, listen to me.  He’s the Sith,” he blurted out, his fear for her safety overwhelming the anger that burned along his brain.  Now it was replaced by a quaking terror of what Padme might do, what danger she could put herself, and their children, in if she didn’t know.

 

Even knowing, she still might do it anyway.

 

She looked up at him, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, disbelief and horror written over every last line of her face.  Then she shook her head, unable to comprehend the possibility.

 

“That can’t be true.  If that’s the case, then why go through this charade?  Why play at the kindly old man, why try to seize more power when he had power already?” she asked.  Anakin closed his eyes, recalling what Revan and Meetra had said about the Sith of old, about power and hunger and strength of will.  About their hatred of the Jedi, a hate that was nearly all-consuming, that had been passed down for generations even unto now.

 

“Because it isn’t absolute power, it isn’t control.  And he wants more… wants more than just political control, Padme,” Anakin said, haltingly, not sure how to say this.  Even Obi-Wan didn’t know about the noetikon, about the help Anakin had received, the insights he had.  What he had risked by coming back to Coruscant, even though it was a risk he had to take.

 

_“You could be used, against yourself,” Revan said, eyes sympathetic.  “Your best qualities turned inside out, to serve the dark.”_

_“She’ll be used against you, too, because the Sith see connections as a source of weakness or influence, not strength.  But she is vulnerable, and through her, you,” Meetra told him, tone matter of fact._

_“But I can’t avoid it.  Not if I want to be free,” Anakin said.  They nodded._

_“We never said you shouldn’t go, Anakin.  All things must be faced in their time,” Revan said.  “Our enemies, and our own selves.  Especially when they are one and the same.”_

_“And know that in the end, it is the people you care for who will see you through this.  The connections you have built matter.  Do not fear them, trust them,” Meetra said._

Trust, faith, difficult things for a former slave to do, but facing down an enemy, oh, he could do that.  Padme’s hands touched his face lightly, slim and cool against his skin, and he dipped his head to hers. 

 

“He wants me, Padme.  I’m what he’s been after, a source of power or something else, I don’t know.  But this isn’t about the Republic at all.  This is about power, and we can’t let him have any more,” he told her, the sinking horror of his own realization, a gift Master Yoda had been able to give him only a few months ago, resurfaced.  How he had been used and manipulated and groomed.  And how dangerous it was to think these thoughts while on Coruscant.  Just to be safe, he started counting cards in his head, to keep his thoughts his own.

 

“Then it might be time, Ani,” she said, voice heavy, but sure.  Her eyes were steady and clear, as though they could see a way through this mess, a way he couldn’t even imagine save to fight and snarl at anything that tried to hurt what was _his_.  Those old instincts weren’t helpful here, but they were strong.

 

But Padme was like a star, guiding him on, and he would follow her light.  He might have to face his enemy soon, but he would he would not do so alone.

 

* * *

 

“Well.  Stang,” was all that Ahsoka could come up with as she watched the feed from the news.  The barracks had feed-screens as a matter of course.  Popular shows were most often on, or workout vids.  Come night time, dancing vids pirated from the Mynock Grotto also made an appearance.  Some of the boys really needed better hobbies.  But news feeds were always on in the mornings, because that was when various Commanders were able to dictate viewing habits.

 

She sat next to Rex, Appo opposite them, and every face was turned up at the screens mounted on the walls as the Chancellor’s announcement played once more.  Political talking heads were going on and on about how good this could be for the war, but Ahsoka’s heart sank.

 

The Jedi were not an independent order anymore, effective from a few hours ago.  They were the strong arm of the Republic now, specifically the strong arm of the Chancellor.

 

This was so far beyond not good she almost couldn’t process it.

 

Then she felt the eyes on her, the _vod’e_ looking at her, wondering how their Jedi would take this, wondering what the Jedi might ask them to do if the Jedi were torn between ending the war and maintaining the freedom.  Glancing at Rex out the corner of her eye, she saw his jaw muscles jump, which was all the reaction he gave.  She had snuck back in at far too early this morning, and had managed to make it look like she was just here for a visit, checking on the two battalions left in the system.

 

She wasn’t sure how many of them believed that, though that seemed beside the point now.

 

“General, what the karking hell?” Jesse asked, with all of his usual eloquence.  “What’s going to happen to the Jedi?”  There were murmurs around the room, _vod’e_ speaking a quick mix of Basic, Mando’a and some of their own shorthand, all of which was too fast for even her to hear and sort out.  But she could sense the mood of the room, the sharp, knife-edge that was looking for something to cut.

 

Only Rex, she knew for certain, had any idea that the Chancellor was not to be trusted.  Appo might know as well, but she couldn’t be sure how much Anakin trusted his newer Commander.  But even though she knew, she couldn’t let the wrong rumors spread among the _vod’e_.  They all talked to each other too much, more than anyone would guess, and the wrong thing could send them all in the wrong direction.

 

“Look, we don’t know anything yet.  He’s made that announcement, but neither the Council nor the Senate has responded yet,” Ahsoka said, trying to keep her tone even, maintain the appearance of reasonableness when she wanted to go for the throat.

 

This was the man who had created and intended to use the _vod’e_ for his own ends, for his own power, and she had to defend him to keep them safe.  Just for a little while longer.  The Council, she desperately hoped, would come up with something, anything that would keep this from spiraling out of control.  Further than it already was, that is. 

 

“We’ll get some answers soon.  In fact, look, I’ll go to the Temple and see what I can find out.  I’ll send the information to Rex and Appo, and they’ll make sure everyone knows!” she said, pitching her voice so everyone in the mess hall could hear her.  A mix of veterans and shinies, they still all looked to her for guidance, for orders, for leadership, and the fact that she had taken charge seemed to calm them down.

 

Some of them.

 

Her command team still looked unsettled, as did Appo.

 

“This is gone kriffing sideways, General,” Jarek commented darkly. 

 

“You should check in on… well, go to the Halls of Healing while you’re at the Temple.  Give me an update, please,” Kix said, eyes serious.  She nodded.

 

“I’ll get us some answers, I promise,” she said, holding Kix’s hand for a moment and squeezing. 

 

“We’ll be ready,” Rex told her, looking at her with those golden eyes, serious and sure, every inch the solider they had made him to be.  “Whatever happens.  We’re ready.”

 

She knew what he meant.  If the chips activated, if they had to fight their brothers.  He would not hesitate, he would not falter, and she would lead him and all her men to kill the men they should be doing everything to save. 

 

But there was nothing for it, and she maintained her composure as she left the barracks and headed for the Jedi Temple.

 

* * *

 

Ekria turned off the vidscreen.

 

“Fives, you can’t obsess over it,” she said, holding the controller behind her back.  He loomed over her, tense as a drawn wire.  “We’re almost ready, and Echo needs you to be here for him.”

 

“No, Echo needs his brother to stop being a charging bantha about everything,” Echo said, stepping in to the main area of the recovery suite.  It had been turned into, basically, a slicer’s den, full of wires and tech everywhere.  She had installed it with Fives’s help, and sometimes she thought she had dreamed up how to do this, to make this work, because looking it, it all looked absolutely mad.

 

“Echo, the man is evil.  The man _did this to us_ , and now he’s got control of the Jedi.  No, we have to do something,” Fives pleaded, shoulders bunched as if he were ready to spring into action that second.

 

“And you won’t do anyone any good if you go and get yourself killed.  Or you could set something off.  Fives, please,” Echo said, “just be my brother.  I need you to be my brother.”

 

It was that word, _brother_ , that did it.  Fives deflated, though he still didn’t look happy as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

 

“Fine.  Fine.  What do you need me to do?” he asked sharply, turning back to Ekria.  She thought about it for a moment.  They had to get quicker access to the chip network.  Speed was going to be key.

 

“I think… I think I need a different interface,” she said thoughtfully.  “We’ll have to rig one up quick.  I don’t know how much time we have, so we better get to work.”

 

“Alright,” Fives replied, and they got to work.  Ekria didn’t know and couldn’t bring herself to worry about the political response.  She had one job, one duty left to her right now, and it was saving the _vod’e_ from the chips in their heads, and saving the Jedi, too.  Anything else would only get in the way.

 

* * *

 

Adi Gallia felt like weeping.

 

Surely this was what heartbreak felt like, seeing what you loved, what you had dedicated your life to crumble and fall away to the applause of others.  Kenobi leaving had been ill-advised, but no one had asked her opinion on the matter.  She had thought that perhaps Bail Organa would have known better, as would Mon Mothma, but they had seen the opportunity and leapt to take that.

 

Then again, the had not been told that Palpatine was a Dark Lord of the Sith.  Though, they might not have understood the importance of that regardless.

 

Still, too much information kept separate, too many secrets kept for the good of others.  But what had happened could not be changed, and she wasted no time on recrimination.  She had to focus all her energy and skill on keeping the Order free, on keeping the Senate going with Bail and Mon out of the system and Padme pregnant.

 

Speaking of, she thought, her head turning in the direction of the door way.  Holding up her hand, she signaled for quiet, and the remaining Council fell silent. Mace, herself, Koth, and Rancsis were all that were on Courscant right now.  Vokara was still busy in the Halls of Healing, and no one had seen Tera Sinube since before yesterday.  Others were missing as well, but she trusted that even on this planet she would feel the death of a fellow Jedi, as she had felt Tiin’s death while he had been in battle above them.

 

The doors of the Council chambers opened, revealing Knight Skywalker and Senator Amidala.  He walked slightly ahead and to the right of her, while her handmaids walked behind her.  As the two identically dressed women got to the doorway, however, they dipped their knees and backed away, taking up positions outside the door as it closed.  The Senator did nothing to hide her belly, but Mace and the others had more pressing matters to deal with than a woman being pregnant.

 

“Masters,” Padme began, and that was surprising.  Skywalker stood to the side, letting her take center stage, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robes.  “We have all seen the announcement by now, and I think the time has come that we join voices for the public to see that we are not failing them, that the Chancellor has made a grab for power that we oppose.”

 

“And what can be done, Senator?” Mace asked pointedly, his frustration getting the better of him.  Adi tapped his shoulder lightly with the fingers of her hand, and he settled back, only slightly.  “I mean to say, that neither the Senate nor the Order is well thought of, even before yesterday’s attack.  Unfairly or not, the blame has been laid upon us for not knowing such an attack was coming, though Knight Skywalker has been the subject of unofficial vids about his heroism.  It seems he is the only Jedi the public admires anymore.”

 

Skywalker winced at that pointed barb, but kept quiet.  Even more interesting, Adi thought.  Previously, the boy would have been all fire and indignation at such a remark, but now he took his lumps if not with grace, at least without descending in to spoiled sullenness.

 

“Exactly why we must move.  I have been working my contacts, and the Senate will make a public demonstration against this power move.  While the Chancellor ensured only he could call the Senate in to session, there remains a loophole, one he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried.  If every Senator on Coruscant takes their seat, regardless of whether or not the Senate has been called, it will be _as if_ the Senate has been called to session.  We can deliberate, and we can veto this abuse of executive authority,” she said, and Adi blinked in surprise.  Even she didn’t know that loophole had slipped past Palpatine.

 

“I can see why he did not fight it.  It is unlikely that every sitting Senator could agree on something enough to come together,” Rancsis said, his long-snake-like tail coiling on itself.  She was sure if he let himself go a little, it would be flicking back and forth with barely suppressed irritation.

 

“Unlikely, and yes, Palpatine has many friends in the Senate, but I believe this will have pushed them too far.  While not everyone agrees with or even likes Bail Organa, to see a Senator of his stature summarily stripped of power, no, they will see it for the threat that it is… once I point it out to them,” she said, and Adi sat forward.

 

“You are very good at pointing things out to people, Senator,” Adi supplied, interested to see where this was going.

 

“And what will you get them to do, once they are there, Senator?” Mace asked, leaning back, watching the woman carefully, knowing exactly how tenacious the woman was.

 

“Get them to sanction the Chancellor for abuse of powers, and ask the Jedi to arrest him,” she said, lifting her chin high, her brown eyes sparkling with something like victory.  “We’ll cut the political capital right out from underneath him, put the Jedi and the Senate back on top, and force him in to a corner.  Even better, put him under your control.”

 

That last line made Adi sit up.

 

“Why do you think it matters so much that Palpatine is under our control, Senator?” Adi asked carefully.  Padme looked back to Skywalker then, who gave her a nod.  He stepped forward.

 

“Because… Masters, I.  There is something you need to know, something that I am sure you all have suspected but could not confirm.”  He took a breath, as though he were holding on to his composure with both hands.  “Palpatine is the Sith Lord we have been chasing for ten years, not merely an unfortunate puppet.  He has been the root and cause of everything, and he is after me.  He has been since I was small, and it was only through Master Yoda’s intervention that I could see that.”

 

It was Mace’s sharp bark of laughter that shocked Adi the most, really.

 

“Of course, of course he has been after you.  It all fits, fits with what we know, what has been at the edges of everything for…” Mace trailed off, and Adi could sense the anger rise in him like a creature from a deep ocean.  But he controlled it, he always did, and when he looked at Skywalker and Padme again, though his eyes blazed, his voice was studiously even.  “We must play his game for now, then, and trust in the Force that we have been brought to this point for a reason.”

 

There was more hope than certainty in Mace’s voice than Adi would have ever expected, but it was enough.  Then Adi felt another presence closing in, something bright and focused, like a laser.

 

“Anakin!” Knight-Errant Tano called out, the doors opening to reveal the now tall Togruta, her blue eyes wide, her head held high.  “I couldn’t find you, and they said you were here.  The _vod’e_ are on edge, and… um.  You might have done it this time, Skyguy.”

 

“Ahsoka, not helping,” Skywalker said, though he smiled in spite of the verbal rebuke.  Mace sighed, and waved his had vaguely at those who were likely the source of half his headaches.  Adi felt for the boy as he pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, while his former apprentice nearly made them have to discuss the rather obvious matter which they had been stepping around.

 

“Yes, Knight Skywalker, I noticed the Senator’s… condition.  But it will be dealt with later.  Much later.  Some matters must take precedence at the moment,” Mace said evenly.  In spite of everything, the sharp end of madness and close to the precipice of losing everything, Skywalker and Padme actually reddened slightly. 

 

It was, Adi thought, sweet.  And there was precious little of that to go around at present.  Perhaps, they should take it for what it was, rather than what should not have been. 


	7. A Sharp Time

Ahsoka shadowed Padme as the Senator strode through the corridor of the Senate, Adi at her side.

 

She had arrived at the Temple to warn Anakin that the _vod’e_ were jumpy as hell about the announcement.  At least, those on Coruscant were jumpy.  She would bet anything that news of this would be much more tightly controlled on Republic ships, where it was possible to limit the information _vod’e_ got through official channels.  They’d find out soon anyway, though, considering how many of them had insatiable curiosity, a skill for slicing or both. 

 

What she had not expected was to find Padme addressing the Council as well, in all her visibly pregnant glory.

 

The Council had summarily detailed Ahsoka to be Padme’s body guard, officially, unwilling to make a show of Anakin being too close to her.  In fact, Anakin had been ordered to not leave the Temple at all.  That he had been under the control of the Sith, to some degree, from a very young age had been a shock, and it also meant that he was too big a risk.

 

Ahsoka had wondered if Anakin was going to explode then and there, but rather than rant about unfairness and idiocy, he visibly contained his frustration and agreed to the order.  She doubted that would be the end of it, but for now, Anakin was doing as he was told.  Obi-Wan wouldn’t believe it even if he was here to see it.

 

Thus, she had stayed nearly glued to Padme’s side for the past solar-cycle while she had wrangled every last favor and chip she had, and putting herself in to political debt to get Senators to take their seats.  It had to be done fast and dirty, Master Gallia unable to help garner support or they would give the game away.  Lux and Riyo had scrambled as well, calling on the staff from Senator Organa and Senator Mothma’s offices.  It had been an entire force of political adjuncts out for a cause.

 

Now, now they walked to the Senate Assembly at dusk, Master Gallia able to make an appearance finally, and Padme was about to try to make the Senate speak with a unified voice to shout down a man who had all but declared himself king.  A man whose dark influence had eaten at the heart of the Republic for decades, all unseen.

 

Ahsoka was well aware this could end badly, and the Jedi Masters at the Temple were on edge, waiting for any indication that their assistance would be required.  No one was certain where those Sith assassins had come from, or how many more might be waiting in the wings.  Sabe and Dorme had insisted on coming as well, holding position near their charge, and Ahsoka was grateful for the secondary line of defense.  She stood at the back of the pod, blades at her side, openly displayed as a badge of office, in a way, she kept all her senses on alert for anything that might go wrong.

 

So much could go wrong. 

 

Rex and the 332nd were on standby, which was at least easily explainable after the failed Seppie invasion.  The 501st were also at the ready, though they were not entirely free, and Rex and Appo were keenly aware that none of the Coruscant-based troopers had their chips removed.

 

The Temple was also largely undefended, with only a handful of Masters in attendance, most of the Jedi in the Temple these days were very old or very young.  Then there was Coruscant itself, whose citizens were still reeling from the attack they had suffered and whose fear seeped in to the Force, putting Ahsoka’s teeth on edge.

 

How the rest of the galaxy fared, and the far-flung Jedi on missions with their troopers, she couldn’t even imagine. 

 

But she had a job to do, regardless of what the Council had said, Obi-Wan’s warning rang in her mind: stay close to Anakin and Padme.  He had seen something in her, something that might be important, but what it was, he couldn’t or wouldn’t say.  Trying not to dwell on that, she kept in Padme’s shadow as the Senator took her seat and called the Senate to session.

 

Almost every seat was filled, and the board on Padme’s vidscreen lit up, a wealth of green lights.  Senators on planet and proxies, every last one, had come.

 

The Senate would sit without the Chancellor.

 

* * *

 

“We all know why we are here,” Padme said, her voice picked up my microphones, translated and carried to every last Senator and proxy.  She was bone tired, her belly feeling even heavier than it had yesterday or the day before.  Had it only been two days ago when they had gone to bed, believing themselves safe?  Before Grievous had attacked?  Before the Sith assassins had torn through the city, though most citizens called them _dark Jedi_.  Before she had known how deeply and horrifically one man had played like an expert, making them all dance to his tune.

 

“That you are tells me that you all understand how important this is,” she continued.  “That you know we cannot waste time, that we do not have long to do what we must to protect democracy and the values we hold dear _as a Republic_.  You all know me, know how I value debate and testing ideas before we implement them.  But I ask, here and now, for an immediate vote.  Do any among you object?”

 

Silence.

 

Not a word.

 

Padme closed her eyes, letting the moment stretch, giving them time.  No one coughed, sneezed, or made any other sound.  That they all showed up was one thing, fear could drive people to where they should go, but it could not make them _do_ what they need to do once they got there.  That could only be anger, seeing a threat for what it was, knowing, in their bones, they could be next, even if they were close to the Chancellor. 

 

Perhaps especially then.

 

“Then I ask for a vote to censure the Chancellor, removing him from office, and formally request the Jedi Order to take him in to custody for abuse of powers.  Further, we agree that Senators Organa and Mothma are acting in the best interests of the Republic and the galaxy at large, and do hereby rescind the Chancellor’s decree.  Any treaty made by the Senators as part of the treaty delegation will still be subject to a vote for ratification, but will not be rejected out of hand,” Padme said, head held high, eyes clear.  This was where it would begin, where they could start to take back the Republic.

 

“I second the motion,” Riyo said, standing, voice ringing out with clear determination.  Then Lux stood.

 

“And I!”

 

It built, it grew, lights blinking on, light after light, yea after yea. and Padme felt close to tears.  This was the good that could be accomplished, when people did what was right, even out of self-interest. 

 

When the last vote came in, Padme felt a weight lift from her, the weight of guilt, knowing she had been the reason that man had gained such heights in the first place.  She had atoned, she had started to put right what she had, all unknowing, helped put in motion over a decade ago.

 

Padme turned her head to see Master Gallia looking out over the assembled Senators and proxies, serene as a Jedi should be, but proud.  Proud to see what had been accomplished on this day with sharp dealing and hard bargaining.  Then over her shoulder, she saw Ahsoka there, so tall and fierce, but even her aversion to politics, acquired no doubt from Obi-Wan and Anakin, was overawed by so many taking a stand such as this.

 

Another breath in, Padme called out, voice like a clarion bell.

 

“The yeas have it, and it is so ordered.”  She turned to the Jedi Master next to her.  “Master Gallia, do the Jedi accept our request?”

 

There was a glint in the older woman’s clear, blue eyes, a triumphant gleam, but she drew herself up to her imposing height, her Tholothian headdress swaying slightly as she lifted her head, her voice to say in a voice that rang with finality and authority, “We accept.”

 

And it was done.  Officially, and in the public eye.  Palpatine had been outmaneuvered.  Now it was time to see how he would react.

 

* * *

 

Anakin watched the newsvid from the Council room at the Temple, arms crossed, one hand balled in to a fist held before his face.  It was a knife’s edge of tenseness that cut through him, searing through every last nerve.  Counting cards didn’t help now, but he could almost hear Meetra’s voice _trust them_.

 

Then the news broke, and Anakin blinked in surprise, too stunned to say anything.

 

Padme had done it!

 

Of course she had done it.  She was a force of nature, nothing stopped her, not for long, and the Jedi had their mandate, not from the Chancellor, but from the Senate itself, from the duly elected representatives of the people.  Looking back, he could see his frustration with the Senate as partially Obi-Wan’s influence, the man’s natural frustration with politicking bleeding in to Anakin’s own perceptions.  Another part was Sidious, the ideas of power and control being better contained in a decisive few rather than a raucous many worming through his mind, when he knew, _knew_ that power held by a select few was all too easily abused.

 

The three remaining Jedi Masters in residence stood, robes falling around them.  Mace stood tall, determined, while Koth followed close on his heels.  Rancsis moved as well, his sinuous body keeping up easily.

 

“Masters, I,” he began to say.  Windu turned, something almost like sympathy in his dark eyes.

 

“Knight Skywalker, you must remain here.  Aside from any other concerns we might have, you are one of the few Knights of full strength at the Temple right now.  If anything happens to us, it will be to you they turn to.  You must be there for them,” he said, voice strong and sure, almost like a solid thing, the iron around which the world could bend.

 

Anakin threw his shoulders back and nodded.  He knew he could not confront Sidious, not directly.  It was too dangerous, with his vulnerability, but he could do what he had always felt right doing: protecting those who needed him.  And right now, the Jedi needed him to be right where he was.

 

“Yes, Master Windu,” he said, ducking his head respectfully.  Mace Windu nodded in return, something almost like approval or pride in his face, but then it was gone, the impassive mask of a warrior on his face once more.  The Jedi Masters strode out the doors, off to arrest the Dark Lord of the Sith.

 

He hoped they managed to find a way to kill him instead.

 

* * *

 

Anger seethed through Darth Sidious, and he very, very much wanted to crush the life out of that meddling, saccharine _bitch_ Padme Amidala.  But no, no rash actions.  There were contingencies in place, ways to still bend events to his will. 

 

They had to know, the Jedi, and perhaps even the little Senator.  They knew, and they had finally begun to act accordingly.  Somehow, they had been clever enough to not tip their hands.  It made everything else a shaky proposition, but they could not have countered all his moves.  And there was still one last line of defense, one last round of cards to play.  Direct, less subtle, but events could be recast later, opinions and minds shaped by re-telling events how they needed to be understood.  The minds of the masses were weak, easily influenced, not even needing the Force to be altered.  Simple story-telling would be enough.

 

And all stories needed a beginning.

 

Undoubtedly the Jedi were already on their way, so he had limited time to do what was necessary.  The contingencies were already in place, he simply needed enough time to ready the triggers.  The Jedi might think they were to emerge victorious, but he would render this galaxy down to ashes and dust before he let that happen. 

 

If he could not have what he wanted, he would see that nothing was left to the Jedi at all.

 

* * *

 

“…and I willingly surrender myself to the Jedi, assured that justice will prevail and that these accusations are baseless.  We must be unified in the face of continued Separatists threat, not turn on each other.  That is exactly what the Separatists want, for together we are strong.  Divided we are weak, and we must be vigilant against those who would sow dissent.”

 

The announcement played over the comms, and Mace shut it off with a vicious stab at the controls.  Of course the Sith _filth_ would respond quickly, decisively, and do his best to plant in the minds of the public that he was a victim of a plot.  It once again cast everything in doubt, and the public had no way to know how the wind was blowing, what they should believe or think. 

 

Adi had informed him that the Senate was still in session, that the Senators had to stay seated until the Chancellor was in custody, or he could muddy the waters, legally speaking.  It meant that the Senators were all in danger, being so publicly assembled, so he used his clearance to speed to the Chancellor’s office, where he had offered to be for the Jedi to collect him.  Apparently as meek as an eopie.

 

Mace did not trust it, of course.

 

They arrived, and Mace did not try to look for Shatterpoints, not anymore.  Having lost his ability, or Shatterpoints no longer existing, it did not matter now.  Now his course was clear, clear for the first time in a long time.  He had a duty and a mandate, and he would see it carried out.  Striding through the hallways, he did not bother to knock before going through the doors to the Chancellor’s opulent office, Koth and Rancsis just behind him.

 

“Chancellor, you are under arrest, and will come with us to be tried for abuse of powers,” Mace said, almost daring the man to make a move.  Instead, he held up his hands, hands that did not hold any saber or blaster, empty hands, and came around from behind his desk.

 

“As you can see, Master Jedi, I hold no weapon,” Palpatine said, his voice kindly and mild.  Mace searched with his Force senses, and still could not feel anything in the man.  It was strange.  Palpatine being the Sith Lord that had dogged their steps for years made sense, made too much sense to be dismissed.  And yet, here he was, submitting to surrender.

 

Mace hesitated.

 

Something was not right, but he could not determine what.  He had to choose, to choose blind, and trust in the Force.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka felt a warning ripple through the Force moments before the Sith assassins dropped in to Padme’s pod, cutting down Sabe and Dorme before either Jedi could react.  Her blades, green and yellow, were out in a flash, and Master Gallia was there too, her azure blade bright and cutting against the red of the Sith blades.  But while Ahsoka and Master Gallia were engaged in fending off the assassins, having to hold back for the tight quarters and for fear of accidentally harming Padme with their blades, another figure approached, using a Senatorial pod as a vehicle, and bodily hauled Padme away. 

 

It was a slim, black-clad figure, feeling unlike the other assassins, more contained, sharper, harder.  The best of them, Ahsoka knew in an instant.  The most dangerous of them, here to steal Padme away for reasons Ahsoka couldn’t fathom.

 

Turning, Ahsoka reached out with the Force to stop the pod from moving away, holding it in place.  One of the assassins took advantage of her distraction and struck, but Master Gallia stopped the blade from cutting deeply in to her back, though it left a shallow score along her shoulder.  This had happened before, when Steela had fallen, when a blaster bolt had broken her concentration, but not again.  Not again would she fail someone when they needed her.

 

With a scream of pain and determination, the Force threaded through her voice, through her ultrasonic vocalizations, making the taller figure writhe in agony.  Padme covered her ears, and Ahsoka saw blood there, but the assassin grabbed at Padme’s hair, hauling her back painfully, and slamming his fist down on the control panel. 

 

The pod sped away, and Ahsoka glanced over her shoulder at Master Gallia, who just dispatched the last of the initial wave of assassins.  The Tholothian Master’s dark blue eyes sparked with righteous indignation.

 

“Go!  Get her!  I will deal with the Senate,” Master Gallia commanded, and Ahsoka nodded, calling on the Force, letting it suffuse her limbs and the world seemed to slow down as she sped up, leaping from one pod to the next, up and up and up, and out, following it outside the Senate building.  There the assassin dropped, Padme in tow, in to a speeder.  Looking around, desperately, frantically, there had to be something, anything.

 

Then there, she spotted an unattended Senate-standard speeder.  She grinned, knowing it was keyed to have priority and allowed to break all kinds of traffic laws.  No need to override anything.  But she would have to move fast.  Climbing in to the speeder and powering it up, she could only see what was in front of her.  It never occurred to her more danger was at her back.

 

* * *

 

Koth and Rancsis looked to Mace, and with a wary nod from him, they strode forward, Koth holding out binding cuffs.  Palpatine held out his hands, but just as Koth was about to snap them about the old man’s wrists, he moved quicker than could be believed, and suddenly burned like a dark fire against Mace’s senses.  A red blade leapt to life in his hands, and he cut Koth in half in a moment.

 

Rancsis and Mace both drew their sabers, and they fought, fast, deadly, blades moving at blinding speed, and Mace could feel Palpatine drawing on the dark side of the Force heavily, deeply, and it made him change before Mace’s eyes, the ravages of the dark side accelerated now that he no longer was hiding.

 

Mace pressed forward while Rancsis tried to take Palpatine’s flank, but the Sith curled his hand in to a claw, aiming the lightning at Mace.  Mace had to deflect on his saber, and with that distraction, Palpatine was able to fully focus on Rancsis, his arm a blur of motion, only stopping as his red saber speared through Rancsis’s heart.  The Thisspiasian Master fell back, eyes wide in shock and the briefest moment of pain.

 

Then Mace Windu was alone against the Dark Lord of the Sith, fueled by years of war and hate and anger and fear, and the dark well that was at the heart of the planet itself.  Though the Temple had been destroyed, Mace knew that well of power remained.  And then Palpatine smiled.

 

“You think you have won either way, _Jedi_ ,” he spat the word out like a curse.  “I assure you, you have not.”

 

Mace said nothing, but shifted his grip, ready for another lightning strike.

 

Instead of an attack, however, Palpatine made a low gesture, calling on the Force, and Mace heard the electronic beep of a confirmation.  And outside the window, the Senate building exploded.

 

* * *

 

Anakin could hardly fail to miss the explosion.  It was a bright bloom in the night, and he thought he could feel the heat of it against his senses.  For a moment, his heart stopped, unbelieving, disbelieving, impossible, no.  No.  _No no no nonononono_ , his mind gibbered.

 

Cards and forgiveness and hope and love and trust, all the lessons he had learned fled in heart-stopping fear, mind-blanking anger, and his fists clenched.

 

Old whispers came to the fore, dark whispers from the shadows in his mind, _The Jedi used her, used you_.

 

_The Jedi put her, his Angel, at risk._

_The Jedi are why she’s dead._

 

Because nothing could survive that.  Whatever he felt of Ahsoka was a remnant now, a ghost, a tattered, broken bond that would linger and fester, and Padme.

 

Padme was… gone.

 

His _children_ were gone before they had even been.

 

There was nothing for him now, and the darkness threaded through his mind, grasping, clawing, worming, writhing through every last thought, leaving trails of fire burning through his soul.

 

 _Make them suffer_.

 

 _Kill them all_.

 

 _Leave nothing left_.

 

Yes, yes he would avenge her, avenge them both, his love and his apprentice.  His children unborn.  There was only one thing to do.  To kill both men who had allowed this situation to come to pass.

 

He would kill Mace Windu and Sheev Palpatine, and then… then the galaxy would burn.

 

Unheeded, at the back of his mind, were two voices, voices carried through the eddies of time, voices of Jedi long dead, _love is a test of faith, forgiveness is the greatest gift to be had…_ because all he could feel now was rage, and it choked out everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, back to Sunday updates! Thanks for sticking it out, and um, yup, the doom begins. Did you think Sidious would allow himself to be defeated? Or that Anakin's deep, psychological scars just went away? Pfffffft, nope.


	8. More Weight

Adi Gallia extended her will through her body and with the Force, a telekinetic bubble between the Senators and the explosive destruction of the Senate building.  Jaw clenched, arms trembling, her breath came in short gasps, the effort of maintaining a barrier of this size draining her quickly.  She could hear the panic and confusion all around her, could feel it hammering against her defenses, defenses that crumbled to dust as she put every last measure of her energy in to saving all she could.

 

“You must run!  To the Temple!  The Jedi will protect you!” she yelled, voice high and strained, even to her own ears. 

 

“Master Gallia has saved our lives!  We must go quickly!” Senator Chuchi cried, a voice that once quavered, strong and commanding.  The Senators zeroed in on Riyo, moving on her position as though drawn by an invisible string, the fear of their own lives propelling them quickly and without argument.

 

Adi wanted to scream, the fire burning in her mind, but she kept her silence, and she knew she could not hold the barrier for long enough to save them all.

 

Lux jumped from his station to where she was, landing lightly, not disturbing her concentration.  He had worked with Jedi before, she dimly recalled, her mind filled with the one thought, the foremost thought that mattered, keeping the barrier up, strong, even as the weight of the duracrete above them and the fires around them pushed her past her limits.  Her heart hammered in her chest, sweat beading on her forehead and running down her back.  The strain on her body was beginning to wear, but she held her mind firm.  Mind was what mattered, mind and will, and Adi Gallia had that in spades.

 

“Can you make it, Master Gallia?” Lux asked softly as the Senators fled, led by Riyo Chuchi.  A bare shake of her head was all she could manage, but it was enough.

 

“May the Force be with you, and may you be one with the Force,” he said, a mere boy, with the knowledge of a man three times his age, eyes that had seen death and the horrors of war.  She looked in to those eyes, old before their time, and her heart ached not for herself, but for all those who were too old, too soon.

 

She watched them flee, Lux trotting backwards for several strides before turning and corralling a few more Senators.  There was not enough time, she thought, there never was.  But she grit her teeth and hung on, closing her eyes, putting all her focus in to the barrier.  Her arms shook, her body trembled, but she found peace.  She was ready.

 

“The Force is with me,” she whispered, her lips dry and parched from the effort of moments, but an effort like no other in her life.

 

Then she dropped her arms, the barrier fell, the Senate building collapsed in an inferno around her, and Adi Gallia’s life ended, in service to the last.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka felt the pressure wave in her montrals first, and risking a glance over her shoulder, she saw the Senate building explode, seem to hold for a moment, and then collapse inwards, the duracrete tumbling down even as fires bloomed through the destruction.  Then she felt the heat and Adi Gallia’s death, a clarion bell of loss in the Force from so close.  But there was no time to mourn, even though she could feel other rents in the Force, other Masters dead, now that Master Gallia’s death had drawn her attention that way.

 

She had to rescue Padme from that assassin.  She had to.

 

Turning her attention back to the task at hand, she throttled hard on the engine, tearing through the air to catch the assassin on his own speeder.  Ahsoka gained elevation and saw Padme sprawled in the back of the speeder, clutching protectively at her belly.  There were limited options, considering Padme was pregnant and therefore not up to her usual ability to keep up with Jedi.  Not seeing anything for it, Ahsoka slammed the auto-pilot, jumped to the other speeder, sabers drawn, her green and yellow meeting the black-clad assassin’s red in a crackle of energy. 

 

Ashoka stood in the passenger seat even as the assassin stood in the pilot’s position, their balance keeping them steady against the veer of the speeder now that no one was at the controls.  Their blades moving too fast for Padme to reach past them, Ahsoka shifted her balance and defended against a series of overhand strokes, heavy, cutting things, designed to wear her down, to take aim at her injured shoulder.  Shutting her mind to the pain that flared down her back, she drew deeply on the Force and fed power and speed in to her arms, pushing her past her physical limits.

 

The air whipped past her, and she saw the buildings approaching out the corner of her eye, but the assassin was drawing on the Force as much as she was, and his blades became a blur, slamming down on her guard, again and again and again, forcing her to catch his blade between her two crossed blades, compensating for the wound to her injured shoulder.  He bore down heavily, and she grit her teeth, feeling the heat of his blade next her face.

 

Then he staggered, and she could feel his shock ripple through the Force, and she could just imagine wide-eyed surprise under his black, opaque mask as Padme held a blaster in her hands, brown eyes steely.  In that split second, Ahsoka pressed her advantage, and held his blade off with her green saber, stabbing her yellow-green shoto in to his side, angled up to hit as many organs as possible.  Though he wore a mask and full-body suit, he was clearly humanoid, and that angle would kill anything humanoid.

 

With a kick, she sent the assassin’s body over the side, depowered her sabers, and took the controls in hand.

 

“Where’d you get a blaster pistol?” she called over her shoulder, the wind making it hard to be heard.

 

“There’s always one kept in these speeders,” Padme replied, voice with only a touch of quaver to it, but then she dropped the blaster as she curled around her belly again, groaning in pain.

 

“Padme!  Are you hurt!?”  Ahsoka’s heart hammered in her chest.  Her arms and shoulders were on fire, and she knew she had to get something to eat or rest after pulling that much of the Force in to her body.

 

“No!  No… I’m in labor!” Padme said between clenched teeth, and Ahsoka had handled a lot in her life.  War, death, loss, privation, betrayal and had never panicked.  Now, now she was panicking.

 

“Oh, kriffing hell!  Of course you are!” she declared to the world at large, and angled the speeder to the one safe place she could think of on this whole damned planet.  A place that wasn’t as safe as she would like it, but it was the best she could do on short notice.

 

They headed for the Temple, and she frantically switched channels, letting them know she was coming, letting Anakin know Padme was safe.

 

* * *

 

Mace Windu shifted his weight, staring down the Dark Lord of the Sith, a creature that smiled back at him with vicious glee, hate gleaming out of those blue eyes that had turned yellow from drawing heavily on the dark side of the Force.  In moments, Sidious had transformed himself into a twisted thing, but still a powerful one, one that had cut down two of his fellow masters and was pushing Mace more than he had expected.

 

Still, he knew his duty, even with the Republic in shambles, with the Jedi Order flung far and wide, with the Grandmaster still missing, and his fellows dying all around him, he had to kill the monster before him.

 

Charging, he pushed the man back, back before him, Palpatine’s face caught in a rictus snarl, forced to back up.  Then his had shot forward, shaped like a claw, and Mace felt the choking, inexorable pressure clamp around his throat.  Lungs burning, Mace staggered, and Palpatine shot past him toward the elevators, taking an easy swipe, but with a push of strength, Mace deflected the blow.  The elevator doors slid shut, and Mace watched with burning eyes as the Sith slipped from his grasp.

 

The pressure on his throat lifted, the line of sight broken, and Mace could breathe again.  Mace could feel the man’s Force presence now that the masquerade was over, a stomach churning point of twisted, turned-inward darkness, seething with hate and anger, and he could be tracked now.  Palatine was moving through the Executive Building, heading for the ground floor most likely, to get to a more secure location.  The Jedi moved quickly, slamming the Force into the window, shattering it outwards, and he leapt, using the Force to slow his fall, and used his saber to break the large window in the lobby of the building.  The transparasteel broke apart, and Mace tucked and rolled, coming to his feet, saber once again at the ready.  Palpatine was halfway to the doors, but turned, hissing, as Mace stood opposite him again, standing between the Sith and his dark ambitions.

 

Then the ornate double doors at the far end of the lobby swung open, and there, in the doorway, stood Count Dooku, Asajj Ventress at his side.  Dooku, tall and slender and looking more composed than ever, his silver hair slicked back and his beard neatly trimmed, walked forward with deliberate strides.  Asajj stalked at his side, like a loth-wolf, her pale hair falling to one side of her face. 

 

 _Be ready_ , she had said to him, not long ago.  Be ready for what, he had wondered.  This, he knew now.  For Dooku to take a hand in matters.  On what side, exactly, remained to be seen, but Mace was willing to watch, his dark eyes alert, to see what was in store.

 

Palpatine, however, did not seem surprised.

 

“I had thought you might challenge me, Dooku, and your timing is rather… predictable,” the Sith said, voice oozing with contempt.  Dooku continued to walk forward, saying nothing.  Mace began to circle to the right, even as Asajj circled from behind Dooku, moving like a shark, mirroring the Jedi Master.

 

“You think you would work together to deal with me?” Palpatine challenged, and his laugh derisive.  “There is one last thing you must contend, with however.”

 

Mace froze, sensing something else coming, something powerful, something uncontrolled, not a fire, but an inferno, a dark sun in Mace’s sense of the Force.  It was unlike anything Mace had ever felt before, but it was also unsettlingly familiar.  His heart sank, and he knew who had come.  Dooku took a half step back, watching the doorway out the corner of his eye, apparently unconcerned, but that he turned to see was a giveaway that something Dooku had not expected was happening.  Asajj slunk to the shadows, disappearing in every way that mattered, and Mace felt thankful for her prudence.

 

Because Anakin Skywalker strode through the still open doorway, his blue eyes burning in the low emergency lights. 

 

“You killed her,” Skywalker said, his voice a flat dead thing.  “All of you, together, killed her.”

 

“No Anakin, she _lives_ ,” Palpatine said quickly, his voice ringing strangely, threaded with the Force, but there was nothing Mace could do to break a connection so old, so well maintained, and only so recently fought against.  “She lives!  Help me, and she and the children will be safe.  Yes, Anakin, you can see it.  I only ever wanted to help you, my dear boy.”

 

“Lies,” Anakin growled, taking deliberate steps forward, but there was less surety in his voice than before.

 

“Because you were not ready to know the truth!” Palpatine said.

 

“You tried to use me,” Anakin declared, striding forward, his saber igniting, held low and at the ready.  Mace held still, not willing to risk breaking Anakin’s concentration, the fight that was taking place in the young man right now.  Dooku held still as well, watching the tableau with narrowed eyes. 

 

“I only tried to make you _see_ , boy.  But you see now.  They risked her, they would have let her die, but my agents saved her from Jedi treachery.  It really has always been about power.  Their power.  They can control everything now, even you,” Palpatine spoke quickly as Anakin closed the distance and readied his saber to strike down, to kill Palpatine in a single blow.  But rather than shield himself, Palpatine made one more final play.

 

“That… is what… you… want…” Anakin said, voice faltering, his flesh arm wavering as he held his blade high, ready to strike.  Palpatine smiled grimly, and Mace knew there had never been any hope.  The Sith knew what it took to control Skywalker, had known all along, and the Jedi had never had any counteroffer that ever mattered.  For what was honor and duty compared to love?

 

“Kill them Anakin, kill them all, and you can have your Angel back.”

 

* * *

 

Rex’s comm blared into life.

 

“Rex!  You better be there!” Ahsoka called through the comms.  The explosion had been easily seen from the barracks, and he had taken the initiative to order the 332nd in to gear.  Appo, knowing not all his men could be trusted, held back, issuing a standby order, ready to go, but not mobilized.

 

Rex didn’t want to think about what Fox was up to.

 

“I’m here, General,” he replied, checking his blasters in their holsters, and already on the move, using the 332nd specific hand signals to get Jesse and Thorn moving with their squads.

 

“Get to the Temple.  _Now_ ,” she ordered, and he thought he could hear something strange in the background.  Not the rushing of wind, likely she was pushing some vehicle past its limit, but it was the sound of someone in a sustained kind of pain.

 

It wasn’t Ahsoka who was audibly hurt, so he put it out of his mind.

 

“Yes, sir,” he answered, and then he heard the click of the comms being cut.

 

“Move, double time, we’re to reinforce the Temple against attack!” Rex shouted, and his men moved with practiced skill, forming up and quick-marching to the Temple, their armor-plated feet hitting the ground in perfect time.  Appo trotted up alongside him, his bucket clipped to his belt, and Rex could see his normally stoic brother’s worry in his eyes.  But only just.

 

“Rex, the 501st… what do we do?” Appo asked.  “I can’t raise Skywalker.”

 

That made Rex worried.  Very worried.  It was never a good thing when General Skywalker couldn’t be found.  Ahsoka had cut the comms, so he knew it wasn’t a good idea to bother her, whatever she was up to, and Cody was out of quick comm range.  Fox, was technically the ranking officer on Coruscant, but Appo knew enough by now to hesitate to call on their brother for deployment orders.

 

“Get to the Senate Building.  There might be survivors, and there will be citizens who try to kill themselves getting in to the rubble.  Protect who you can there,” Rex said, not quite an order, but not a simple suggestion either.  Appo nodded, taking it as an order regardless.

 

“On it, Commander,” Appo said, his voice clipped, sure, confident, everything it should be.  Rex nodded in return and headed out, jogging to the front of the formation, leading his men down the wide boulevard, the wider city in a panic, and the Security Forces out in the streets, already attempting to calm the populace.  All the news feeds were down, no information was coming, and for the second time in as many days, Coruscant was in a complete panic.

 

They reached the steps of the Temple, and Rex keyed in his code, the one the Council had given to him by way of Ahsoka, in preparation for whatever might happen.  The doors swung open, and his men began to flood in to the Temple, taking up strategic positions.  Kix headed straight for the Halls of Healing, to coordinate with the Jedi there, while Jesse and Thorn each took their squads to establish choke points throughout the Temple, while Jarek’s ARC-troopers fanned out around the Temple grounds, taking up sniper and scout positions to cover Temple access.

 

Rex watched it all through feeds on his HUD, keeping track of his men.

 

That was why he was only slightly startled when he heard a polite cough beside him.  Dragging his eyes away from the multiple displays, he saw an old Jedi waiting patiently next to him, the Master’s hands folded over a cane, kind of like General Yoda and his gimer stick, but this Jedi was of a different species, with a long neck and a beak. 

 

“Sir?” Rex asked, settling on that title as an easy way to address any given Jedi he didn’t know.  Then his memory caught up with what his eyes were seeing: Master Sinube, one of the Jedi that had helped Ahsoka during her trial.

 

“I have a request to ask of you, Commander.  I ask that whatever comes, you must hold long enough for the younglings to escape the coming storm,” Master Sinube said, his eyes calm and wise but deadly serious.

 

“We’ll give them all the time we can, sir.  All the time every last one of us can buy them,” Rex promised, stomach sinking in horror at the very thought of it, but knowing it a possibility.  In a war such as this, where the enemy had clearly aimed every last tactic at the Jedi, it would not be enough to cripple the Order.  It must be destroyed, root and branch.

 

“Then I will leave you to your duties, Commander, and I must see to mine,” the old Jedi said, moving away with a quicker step than anyone might have guessed.

 

Rex took one last look out over the plaza, over the vista of Coruscant, seeing the ruins of the Senate Building, hearing the reports of a populace gone half mad already, and he knew where he would make his stand.  Taking one step back, he retreated in to the great hall of the Temple and triggered the doors to lock shut.

 

It was time to get to work.

 

* * *

 

Zonder ran, the scent of his own burned fur thick in his nose, but he had no choice.  He had run _to_ the explosion, feeling a warning ripple along his Force senses moments before the pressure wave had shuddered through the tunnels.  He had ducked in to an alcove to weather the worst of it, and then tried to see if he could find any survivors.  Finding more than that, he had found Senators Chuchi and Bonteri leading the majority of Senators through the tunnels.  They had been doing fairly well, but were already some distance away from the Senate Building and looking a little lost.  But no one knew the tunnels like Zonder, nor could they move through them so well, the Selonian Padawan able to pull on his abilities with the Force and the tunnel sense of his own species, navigating areas he had never been to before with ease.

 

That fact, of course, did not necessarily matter to politicians in fear of their lives.

 

“Please, we must stay together!  Padawan Zonder is leading us to the Temple!  We can find shelter there!” Senator Chuchi shouted, her voice strong and sure, trying to compel.  But some would not be reasoned with.

 

“We must get to our own ships!”

 

“We must flee the planet!”

 

“The Jedi cannot protect us!”

 

“The ones with the red blades, are they back!?”

 

“Riyo,” Senator Bonteri said to the Pantoran, his voice quiet, but Zonder could hear it easily.  He hung back, waiting, but his ears were sharp, and he kept them perked for signs of trouble.  “Riyo, you cannot lead them all if they will not be led.”

 

“Lux, how can you say that?” she asked, quick and sharp.  The young man, younger than Zonder, shook his head.

 

“We’ve both seen war, Riyo.  If it comes to a fight, for our own lives, for the lives of others, I know who I want at my back.  What about you?” he asked.  Riyo’s eyes shifted to the quarrelsome pack of Senators, and sighed.

 

“Padawan Zonder, led us as best you can to safety.  Those who will follow, will follow.  Those who will not… may the gods watch over them,” she said, voice holding too much sadness for one of her size.  But Zonder merely nodded, and turned, slinking away on all fours, his nose twitching, his Force senses extended to their fullest, and picked his way back to the Temple, not bothering to look behind him. 

 

Besides, he had another duty to attend to, one that held the possible fate of the Jedi Order at stake.

 

He knew what Master Sinube had wanted to keep him on this planet for.  It was not merely to secure routes for the younglings fleeing form the Temple.  It was to lead them to safety.  Zonder was under no illusions about the ancient Master’s ability to keep up, and should worst come to worst, Zonder might be the only being in the galaxy that could ensure the lives of hundreds of the youngest Jedi alive.

 

So he ran, and trusted in the Force that he would be where he needed to be.

 

And he thought that a few extra blasters wouldn’t go amiss if everything went bad.

 

* * *

 

Padme screamed, her hand gripping Ahsoka’s tightly.  They had gotten Padme in a medical gurney, and Master Che was checking on the Senator.

 

“You’re halfway there, Padme,” Che said, her voice calm and sure, soothing, in control.  Ahsoka felt anything but that.  She wanted to go check in, to make sure the 332nd was here, but she couldn’t let go of Padme’s hand.  Just down the hall, she could see in to the room where they had set up Echo, Vokara demanding the door remain open so she could monitor all her patients.

 

Now was well past the time for secrecy.

 

Fives and Ekria had hooked up Echo to what looked like a mainframe, wires threading in to his body every which way.  They were tapping on datapadds, adjusting equipment, and frantically moving over Echo.  Echo, however, looked perfectly at ease with those wires sticking out of him, more machine than man.  She wanted to go to him, to go to all of them, but there was only so much she could do.

 

At least Vokara had slapped a bacta patch on her shoulder, the cool, healing medi-gel already working wonders on her wound.

 

“Where’s Anakin?” Padme asked, looking to Ahsoka.  “You said he was left here!”

 

“He was,” Che grumbled, and Ahsoka had tried to raise him from the moment Padme had been secured, only stopping to order the 332nd to the Temple.  No comms, but her sense of him was strange, almost attenuated, as if he had withdrawn from her again. 

 

Then Kix arrived, and Ahsoka sighed in relief.  The 332nd had made it.

 

“Kix!  Take over for me!” she called out, and Kix looked like he had been slapped upside the head, but without missing a beat, he moved to Padme’s bedside and took her hand, speaking softly and guiding her breathing.  He was certainly better at that than Ahsoka was.

 

“Erel,” she barked in to her comms.  “Erel, can you get Anakin?”

 

“No, no I can’t.  Ahsoka, what the hell is going on down there?!” Erel demanded.  “I’m getting reports of the Senate Building being just… gone, there’s reports of mass panic and looting, and word of a fight in the Executive Building.  Orders from the Admiralty Board are to form a defense of the planet, but damn it, we can barely do that!”

 

“You know more than I do, then!  And I’m down here!  Just… try to get Anakin.  He needs to know that Padme is safe, whatever you do, it doesn’t matter now, he has to know Padme is at the Temple, Erel.  It’s important,” she said, stressing the last, and he knew what that meant by now.  She could picture him in her mind’s eye, tall, dark hair and dark eyed, standard Corellian jaunt replaced with a laser-like focus on the task at hand.

 

“I’ll do everything I can, Ahsoka, and we’ll hold Coruscant space while you… do whatever you need to.  No troopers up here, so… well, we should be safe,” he said, quietly, half to himself, the sorrow in his words as profound as her own at the men they would not be able to save in the confusion that was already starting.  “Kersos out.”

 

The comms cut, and Ahsoka closed her eyes, trying to find Anakin though their bond.  She centered herself, closing her montrals to Padme’s yells of pain, to Fives and Ekria’s excited, terrified babble, to Kix’s soothing voice, and Master Che’s even, confident tone.  There was only her bond with Anakin, the bond they had established three years ago after the Battle of Christophsis, when she had proven herself not worthy, as such, but as someone who _already had worth_.

 

She pushed passed the barrier he had thrown up between them, his attention elsewhere at the moment.  Once through, she staggered, overwhelmed at the deep, bitter burning darkness she felt, because wasn’t coming from him, _it was him_ , the whole of him, turned inside out and twisted.

 

He had been doing _better_.  He had been _bright_ again, bright and good and his heart full, like she remembered from before, before her trial, and before the darkness and wormed its way in to his heart.  But maybe, maybe it had always been there.  And now, now it had burst forth, unable to be contained any longer.  She tried to throw herself against that darkness, but nearly slipped into it.  She pulled back to save her own mind, and felt her heart break.  For him, for Padme, for their children.

 

For all of them.

 

“Oh no, Anakin… no,” she whispered to herself, her eyes blue eyes opening, taking in the scene before her, knowing she couldn’t tell Padme what had happened.  It would be too cruel to that to her now.  Ahsoka knew she wasn’t enough to break through to Anakin.  Padme could, but they couldn’t move her, and Obi-Wan was in hyperspace.

 

But she could do one thing, the thing she had promised Obi-Wan, to stay close to one or the other of Padme and Anakin, and since she was here now, she wouldn’t leave the one she could help.  Moving back to Padme’s side, she took the other woman’s hand from Kix, smoothing back her brown hair from her sweaty brow.

 

“He’s not at the Temple, Padme, but he’s… he’s out there, fighting for you,” Ahsoka said, knowing it was something like the truth, and nothing like it at all.  She turned to Kix.  “Comm Rex, give him the medical situation, and that I can’t help come to help hold the Temple.  I… I think I need to be here.”

 

Kix’s eyes danced from Ahsoka to Padme to Master Che, then over to where Echo lay, ready to hack into the chip’s network, should it be activated.  He took a breath, then nodded.

 

“Yes, sir.  I’ll make sure the Commander knows, and… Ahsoka…” the medic trailed off, hand on her uninjured shoulder.  Ahsoka’s hand flexed under Padme’s grip.

 

“I know, Kix, I will,” she replied, filling in the rest.  Then she turned back to Padme.  “Come on, Padme, you can do this.  Babies have to be easier than wrangling the Senate!”

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” the Naboo woman groused, puffing heavily between contractions, but Ahsoka was rewarded with a wan smile.

 

“There’s another one coming Padme, but we’re a ways off pushing!  Hold on,” Master Che said, one green hand on Padme’s knee.  Padme nodded, and yelled as another contraction hit.  Ahsoka winced at Padme’s grip, but she held steady. 

 

“You do this, Padme, you can do this,” Ahsoka urged, dimly hearing Kix relay information to Rex.  “You’re stronger than this, and you know it.”  Padme turned those big brown eyes on Ahsoka, and Ahsoka could see the other woman steel herself, gather her strength, and set her mind on the task before her.

 

Ahsoka hoped that by the end of it, her children came in to a galaxy that made sense, rather than one in shambles.

 

* * *

 

Anakin stared at the figure before him, something so pathetic about it, so weak.  Begging him for mercy, while also leveraging the hope that Padme and their children were alive.  He could sense Master Windu keeping very still, but watching everything with an edge to him like the sharpest vibroblade.  Dooku held himself ready, saber held low in a dueling position, but unwilling to commit until he knew the lay of the land.

 

 _Pathetic_.

 

The darkness slithered between his thoughts, whispers under the level of hearing, more feeling, knowing the half truth half lie of the words that dripped from the Sith’s lips like poison.  Poison Anakin was already half willing to take, to believe.  He had closed himself off, held his bonds tight, unwilling to feel Ahsoka’s death in addition to knowing of Padme’s.

 

 _Weak, before his strength_.

 

_But bound._

_By hope._

_By desperate love._

_Trust them, Anakin, let their love guide you,_ a voice came, a woman’s voice, strident and sure.

 

 _Let go of your pain, forgive yourself_ , another voice said, a man’s, calm and wise.

 

 _My son_ , his mother’s voice in the desert, ragged and broken and bloody.

 

His flesh and blood hand gripped the hilt of saber tight, tight enough to hurt, but that didn’t compare to the pain in his chest, and he felt himself waver.  Waver, and falter… and fall.

 

Turning, Anakin put his back to Sidious and faced Dooku and Windu, also knowing that Ventress was somewhere in the shadows.  His saber held low, he watched them from beneath his brows, a part of mind crying out, screaming to be let free, but it felt chained, restrained, unable to break free no matter how much it struggled.

 

There was only this before him.  To betray and pray that she yet lived, or keep to his duty, and lose everything that kept him alive.

 

There never had been any choice, and all his struggles had been for naught.

 

Anakin Skywalker faded from his mind, and he was only the blade and the power and the Force, darkness and fury and fear, a sick lump in the back of the throat, a shiver along the spine, and the roar of his own anger in his ears.

 

What was left of the man charged, the low chuckle of the Dark Lord of the Sith following in his wake.


	9. Though Our Own Hearts Break

Asajj Ventress circled the scene the four human men were making, the Skywalker boy turning himself over to the dark for his heart’s desire, while Dooku and Windu watched.  Perhaps, had the boy not given in, the matter would be simple now, but Darth Sidious had the ally he had always wanted.  She knew what her strength was, relative to the others here, and she kept to the shadows, disappearing, making her Force presence until it faded into the background of the frenetic life that saturated the city-planet.

 

She watched as Dooku tried to reach Sidious, a sharp, precise thrust, but Skywalker blocked it, ducking low, spinning out of the way as Windu came in from behind.  Skywalker caught the Master’s violet blade with his blue, then called on the Force and caught Dooku’s feet out from underneath him.  Thve dark fueled Skywalker now, lending him a viciousness he usually did not display as he lashed out with every weapon he had to protect the creature that had, supposedly, saved the woman he loved.

 

What stupid things love made people do, Asajj thought, watching as Sidious carefully retreated while Skywalker kept the two others occupied, his blows hard and uncompromising.  Dooku and Windu were master duelists, yes, but Skywalker was young and more powerful by far.  He had also improved since even she had seen him last.  The Jedi and the Sith were, moreover, getting in each other’s way.

 

But she knew what she was here for, why Dooku brought her along.

 

Her legs sprang to action as Sidious gained a staircase, heading for relative safety from the ensuing fight, and Asajj ran past Windu, aiming for the balcony as she did so.

 

“With me, Jedi,” she said to the dark-skinned man, and she leapt, gaining the balcony.  Windu spared a single glance at Skywalker, and then followed her, calling on the Force and letting Dooku keep Anakin occupied while they took down Sidious.

 

She ran along the upper balcony, rounding the corner just as Sidious got to the top of the stairs.  He saw her, with Windu close behind, and snarled, lightning shooting from his hands.  But this time, this time she was prepared.  Dropping in to the vaapad, she caught the lightning on her saber, twisting it, turning it away, sending it careening into the wall in a violent burst.  Then Windu was there, coming around her left to charge the Sith, red crackling against violet, his brown robes flaring out behind him as he spun and parried a counterstrike.

 

Asajj moved to a flanking position, and they hounded the Dark Lord of the Sith, pushing him to keep up with them.  He began to transform before her eyes, his own eyes becoming fully yellow, tainted and corrupted by the dark side of the Force.  She could feel it filling him, a siren, sweet song she could all too easily draw on.  For a moment, she was distracted by that call, the pull of the dark, and she raised her guard too slowly, forcing Windu to overextend himself to save her head.

 

Which was when Skywalker appeared like a thing possessed, his blue blade swinging upwards, cutting through Windu’s arms, sending the man’s limbs and saber flying away.  Then with a vicious Force throw, Anakin threw her over the balcony.  Unable to catch herself on anything to slow her fall, she saw Dooku lying on the polished stone floor, a hole burned in to his side, though he still breathed.

 

Then her head hit the ground, and it all went dark.

 

* * *

 

“No,” Anakin said, facing the man that had tried to bind him, tried to control him, and had succeeded, after everything he had done to avoid it.  But there was a reason for that, a reason why he had let himself be bound.

 

For love’s sake.

 

Though he knew she would not thank him for this.

 

She would curse him, revile him.

 

But she would be alive.

 

_Selfish love…_

 

_You must let go…_

 

No, voices he knew, Jedi long dead had been speaking to him, but they didn’t matter now.  Their lessons were dust and ash.  How could they have taken the risks they did?  He could not. 

 

“No?” Palpatine asked mildly.  He was truly twisted now, pale, sagging flesh, a withered husk of a person, but his eyes were the worst.  Unfettered by the need to hide, they were a baleful yellow and full of hate and pride.

 

“Let him suffer, as they let me suffer,” Anakin said flatly, staring down the Sith, hoping he could do some small things, still save a few, where he could.

 

Palpatine smiled like a snake.

 

“In that case, of course my boy, he may live to suffer.  And he could prove useful,” Palpatine said, and swept away from the prone, pained form of Mace Windu, curled around the handless arms he cradled to his chest, the shock of it like as not to kill him.  But at least now he had a chance.

 

Anakin followed Palpatine down the hallway to an office, the Sith shrugging in to a robe, pulling a hood around his face to hide the extent of the damage his own dark side use had wrought.  With easy movements, sure in the knowledge that they would not be interrupted by anyone else, with Mace Windu maimed, and likely Ventress and Dooku dead, there was no one else on the planet that could challenge him.  Then the man punched in a coded sequence and the terminal opened a frequency. 

 

“The Jedi have betrayed the Republic.  Execute Order 66,” Palpatine said in a harsh, authoritarian voice.  _Vod’e_ after _vod’e_ acknowledge the order, and Anakin watched, tasting bile in the back of his throat, as he allowed the destruction of everything he had ever sworn to protect.

 

* * *

 

Aayla Secura felt Bly slam in to her, knocking her to the ground as blaster fire shot through where she had been standing.  Felucia was burning, Kit’s crash site mere meters away, her battalion combing through the jungle looking for him before the droid army could get to him.  Instead, their failure to save the _vod’e_ and the Jedi was complete.

 

Bly shot his brothers, without hesitation and without remorse.  She could feel nothing in him save an iron will to keep to his duty, to serve the Jedi, to protect his general.  To save her from having to kill the men she had led and trusted and failed.  Then she saw one of the snipers on the crest of the rise before them, taking aim, and she sprang to her feet, deflecting the blaster bolt back at him with her blade.

 

Looking at Bly over her shoulder, she briefly let the sorrow show in her eyes, but he wore his helmet, his face hidden from her.

 

“We have to get to General Fisto,” he said, voice tight, controlled.

 

“And quickly,” she agreed.  They ran, skirting the patrols, patrols she had set up and that Bly was still tapped in to.  The crash site was just ahead, but she hesitated, a hand on Bly’s shoulder, stopping him from rushing in.  She could sense his worry, and it fed in to her own.

 

“Can you sense him?” Bly asked.  She closed her eyes, trusting Bly to watch over her, and she tried to pinpoint her sense of Kit in the mass of life that was Felucia.  Breathing out slowly through her nose, she shook her head sadly.

 

“ _Kark_ ,” Bly bit out, his fingers flexing on his rifle, and her heart sank.

 

“We cannot stay here, Bly.  We must…” she trailed off, a flash of something across her senses, and a streak of green through the trees.  Then the brush rustled, Bly drawing a bead on the figure stepping through the leaves, to reveal a limping Kit.  Aalya rushed forward, slinging his arm over her shoulders, letting him put his weight on her.  Thankfully, he leg did not seem broken, nor did he appear to have any serious injuries. 

 

“We have failed,” Kit said, and seeing him her sorrow resonated with his, two hearts, three hearts, in time and grieving the horror that swept through the galaxy.  Horror they could do nothing about, save keep themselves alive for the moment.

 

“Now is not the time to debate that, my dear heart,” she said sharply, focusing on the business of staying alive, of surviving.  “Bly, take point.  We’ll keep up.”

 

“Where are we headed, Aayla?” he asked, discarding the formal titles, there no longer being a need.  She was not a general, because her battalion was not her own, not anymore, and neither was Kit.  They were simply… themselves.

 

“First, we need to clear the patrol perimeter, so… east, then north, to avoid the droid army,” she said, sounding more decisive than she felt.

 

“That’s something like a plan,” he replied, and moved out, slipping through the underbrush easily.  Aayla and Kit followed, walking as quietly as they could, her hand firmly on Kit’s waist, urging him on.  She had never expected to be the strong one in their relationship, never expected to be the one they both turned to, but now, here, she was, and though the evidence of failure was all around her, she would not fail her dearest hearts.  They still needed her, and she would not falter.

 

* * *

 

Barriss had not returned to Coruscant, as she had said she would not.  But she had monitored Ahsoka’s movements, had learned that Luminara Unduli had watched over the 332nd for a time, and been reassigned to Kashyyk to help the Wookies.  It was a strange planet, to Barriss’s senses, the trees and animals obscuring her sense of the Force, and it was likely why the droids were pushing hard here.  It was difficult to sense droids at the best of times, but confusing it with so much life, meant that the Jedi were simply very fast, very strong soldiers. 

 

Luminara should have stood out like a beacon, but she was a dim, wan thing to Barriss’s senses, so different from the unwavering light she once had been.

 

She had been leading the troopers here, working closely with the Wookies, and Barriss had watched, obscuring her presence in the Force, a thing of the dark she had learned in her time away from the Temple, on the run with Fives, hiding on Nar Shadda.  Not a fair trade, no longer able to Heal, but she could hide. 

 

Then she felt the ripple of darkness sweep through her, a predatory, vicious thing, grasping, hateful and vile.  Too late, she reacted, too far away to stop it.  She saw, almost in slow motion the trooper raise their blasters, Wookies try to stand in the way, but it was too fast, and Luminara staggered, shot, not even able to raise her blade.

 

Barriss had though she hated Luminara.  Hated the woman for failing her, for throwing her in to the war without a second thought, for letting her Heal dying, screaming men, their pain breaking past her barriers, worming in to her mind, putting so much on her shoulders until she broke.  But seeing Luminara fall, Barriss knew she did not hate the woman.

 

She hated herself for failing Luminara.

 

With a high, piercing scream of rage, Barriss launched herself from her perch in one of the massive trees, descending on the troopers like an avenging angel, cutting them down in moments.  A second contingent of Wookies moved on the position, bowcasters pointing at Barriss, roaring at her.

 

“ _Identify yourself_!”

 

“ _Step away from the Jedi_!”

 

“I was her student!” Barriss shouted, gathering the woman in her arms, tears streaking down her face, but a flicker of hope in her heart, an unfamiliar thing, and painful for its disuse.  Luminara still breathed.  “More troopers are coming, please!  Help!”

 

With a grunt, one Wookie picked up Luminara and began to run, Barriss having to call on the Force to keep up.  They reached a hidden launch pad with a small shuttle ship waiting.  He carried Luminara in to the shuttle, setting her down, and climbed in to the pilot’s seat.  Barriss let him do as he would.  She could either trust him or not, and though her anger and fear screamed to not let him pilot the vessel, to keep control of the situation, Barriss had to accept that everything was out of her control now.

 

Instead, she held Luminara closely and closed her eyes.  If she could only Heal still she could be of _use_ , rather than the dark thing she had become.  Her breathing was a harsh, ragged thing, and she felt her heart shudder.  There was one option, one possibility, and it scared her to her bones.

 

She could take on Luminara’s pain.

 

Clenching her jaw, Barriss forced her mind open with an effort of will.  It felt like she had sealed it shut with a door of durasteel, chained and latched, but she forced it open all the same, and she let Luminara’s pain and hurt in to her mind, into her body.  It was more than the physical pain of the blaster shot, it was the sorrow of failure, the self-recrimination, the horror and terror of fighting that Jedi felt but did not let touch them, in theory.

 

Taking on the pain, Barriss let the Force flow through her and in to Luminara, letting everything else fall away.  The scree of the engines, the hard banking the Wookie pulled to get them away from the planet, the jump to hyperspace.  It didn’t matter.  Instead, Barriss hoped, that painful shard working its way deeper in to her heart, hoped that she was healing the wound in Luminara’s side.  Barriss held on to the other woman’s body, eyes still closed, unwilling to see if she had succeeded or failed.  Then she heard it, Luminara’s gasp of breath.

 

Eyes snapping open, Barriss looked down and saw in Luminara’s eyes the thing she had always wanted to see, had craved to see, but never had.

 

Acceptance.

 

“Oh… Barriss…” Luminara said haltingly, one hand reaching up, fingers barely touching her face.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Barriss said, and like a dam breaking, she cried.  She cried for herself, for all that she had done, for all that she had tried to cling to in an effort to protect herself, only to end up destroying herself.  She cried for the Jedi, for the Republic, for the _vod’e_ , for Ahsoka, for Luminara, and for all that she had lost along the way.

 

“No… no, you have come back to me… you have come… home,” Luminara said, voice still weak, but she smiled, and though everything had gone wrong, perhaps in this shuttle, one thing had gone right. 

 

“Yes, yes I have,” Barriss affirmed, head bowed to Luminara’s shoulder, and though the galaxy around them might be fractured, Barriss could Heal again. 

 

Perhaps that was an indication that nothing was ever so far gone that it could not be fixed.

 

* * *

 

Shaak Ti deflected another blaster shot, sending the bolt into the wall rather than back her attacker.  It would be her undoing, taking these men, these _boys_ , to her heart as her wards and charges, as her sons.  The confines of the corridors of Tipoca City were tight, perilously tight.  She had little room to move, and they were converging on her position.  She could only keep ahead of them for so long.

 

And for once, Hook had been on patrol rather than attending on her.

 

She had to get to him, had to save him from this place, from what the Kaminoans would do to him when they found out that he was a free man.  Calling on the Force, she sent a wave of will down the hallway, pushing the men back, slamming them against the far wall and clearing herself a path.  Running, she rounded the corner and saw another patrol coming for her.  They raised their blasters as one, and Shaak prepared to return to the Force even as she readied her blade.

 

Then a smoke grenade went off, the men going down coughing, Hook stepping through the smoke.  Though he wore his helmet, she could feel him in the Force, a young man with a quick, curious mind, bright and sharp, supported by a dry sense of humor and a love of her, his _buir_ , who had kept him close and safe as she had no other.

 

“ _Ion_ ,” she said, _son_ , “quickly, we must go.”

 

“This way, _buir_ ,” he said through his vocoder, turning around and leading her through the hallways, evidence of his passage clear.  He had incapacitated his brothers as he had fought to get to her, all of them surprised as one of their own turned on them like this.  They got through another intersection, and there, at the far end of the corridor, were the doors to the hangar bay.

 

Then she heard the clatter of armored feet behind her, and she turned, seeing another contingent of _vod’e_ as they zeroed in on her position.  Her saber flared to life again, and she felt a rush of air as the doors to the hangar bay opened.  More _vod’e_ , more men coming for her.  And Hook, for now he stood beside her, clearly not bringing her in or on their side.  They would brand him a traitor for that, and he would die a traitor’s death at her side.

 

“No,” she whispered to herself, in to the Force.  “Not my son.”  She raised her head as they took aim and fired, deflecting the blast back in to their armor, scoring hits.  “Not my son!”

 

Because these were not her sons, not anymore.  They had been taken from her as surely as if they had been killed on the field of battle.  Their minds were not their own, their presences in the Force dulled things, a slick darkness sliding over them.  They closed on her position, and Hook stood at her back, a portable shield set in front of him as he fired his rifle into the assembled mass of his brothers.  She bared her teeth, because Force help her, she would not let them take this one too, not him.

 

“Ah!” Hook cried behind her, and she turned her head, seeing him take a knee, the shield in front of him disabled.  It could not withstand the force of the attack from his brothers, and she could see a burn across his right leg.  Lighting quick, she extended her arm past him, defending him from another round of blaster bolts.  Hook fired a few more shots, but Shaak Ti knew that they could not hold here.

 

Her head bowing forward for a moment, she drew the Force to her, taking in the power, threading it through her body.

 

“I’m sorry, Hook, _ion’en_ ,” she said for his ears alone.

 

“ _Buir_?” he asked, voice that of a child he should have been, not the man and solider they had tried to make him.

 

And she screamed.

 

* * *

 

Tai ran across the rocky terrain, the Wolfpack at her back, a bright, bold grin on her face as she felt the land around her guiding them to the perfect spot.  It would give them the exact vantage they needed to push these karking barves back to their compound.  Then they could wait them out, and Cato Neimoidia would be under Republic control again.

 

Across the sky, she saw their flight squadron streaking to the next target, where the droid mortar batteries were.  Those needed to be taken out, then they could continue to advance.  At the fore, she saw Master Plo’s fighter leading his men on.  Then she saw a rocket rise into the sky after it, a rocket not fired from the droid position.

 

It came from their own men, from Beta Squad.

 

“Belay that!  Belay that!” Wolfe yelled over the comms, his normally gruff voice near to panicked, and Tai watched as the rocket nearly hit Plo’s fighter. 

 

“Sir… it happening,” Comet said, switching them to a private comms channel.

 

More rockets rose in to the sky, and there was nothing she could so save witness, witness as Plo Koon’s own men, men he loved as sons, every last one, turned on him.  Not through any fault of their own, but because they had been betrayed, and because the Jedi had not been quick enough.

 

Then she felt it, the training bond they had established broke, was broken.  Plo had broken it, rather than let her feel his death, as she had felt the death of her first Master, but she still felt his loss ring through the Force, a void where he should be.  His wisdom, his calm, his kindness, and keen sense of justice, a star she could have navigated by, gone, snuffed out, in fire and screeching metal.

 

Tai screamed, though she didn’t hear it, and an arm wrapped around her middle, holding her back, hauling her away from the edge of the cliff she hadn’t cared to notice that she was approaching.

 

“Let me go!” she yelled, tears running down her face, struggling, not with the Force, but with all the strength her small body could muster.  “Let me go!”

 

“Got orders, _jetti’ika_ ,” Wolffe growled, his voice rough not with irritation as per usual, but his own grief, for the Jedi, the General, the _buir,_ he had lost.  His arm was like an iron band around her middle, but she still struggled.

 

“Kark your orders!” she yelled, trying to get out of his grip, but her mind was too full of anger and fear and horror to draw on the Force.  It felt so far away, and her eyes were drawn to the smoke rising from the trees, where his fighter had landed.

 

“They’re the General’s last orders, and right now they’re burning a hole through my head.  Felt them slam into me just before it happened, his last orders and like kriffing hell I’m going to disobey those.  Those are his _last_ orders, and I will see you safe, Tai,” Wolffe said, setting her down and ripping off his helmet, taking her by the shoulder with the other hand and looking at her with one, nearly mad grey eye.  And she stilled, not because his words invoked Master Plo, but because she knew that Wolffe needed this, need to take care of her if he was stay sane.

 

She took one shuddering breath, then another.  Breathing was hard, so hard, and her bond with Master Plo was a neatly snapped thing, but it felt like an open wound all the same.

 

“Then let’s go, Wolffe,” she said, her voice ragged for the screaming, but there was nothing else to do.  Her _ori’vod_ needed her, and she would not fail him, not as she had failed Master Plo.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan sat in the pilot’s seat as they made it back to Coruscant system space, only bare seconds from leaving hyperspace.  It had been nearly a knock down, drag out argument between himself and Bail, about going back once the Chancellor had issued his decree.  They had been out of communication since Mon had, with clear-eyed poise, pointed out that they were both being pointlessly stubborn.  _She_ could go on ahead with the bulk of the Senators on the _Negotiator_ , protected by most of the 212th and the Republic Navy, while Bail and Obi-Wan went back with a small unit of troopers to try to fight the political maneuvering.

 

They had been out of communication for nearly a day, and so when they re-entered real space, Obi-Wan took a second to process what he was seeing.  Coruscant looked like it was being torn apart by another fight, only after narrowly escaping utter destruction.

 

Then the message flashed to life on his comms.

 

“The Jedi are hereby declared traitors to the Republic.  They are under suspicion of having bombed the Senate Building, as one of their own bombed the Temple a year ago, and stand accused of trying to kill the Chancellor outright, rather than apprehend him,” a newscaster said.

 

“Tell me you’re listening to a holodrama, Obi-Wan,” Bail said, entering the cockpit by way of the ladder down to the hold of the small ship. 

 

“It would seem not, Bail,” Obi-Wan replied, then flicked on the ship’s intercom.  “Cody, we’re going to be expecting trouble when we land.  The trouble we’ve been trying to avoid, unless I mistake my guess.”  His words were calm, because he refused to give in to fear and worry before he understood the situation.  If it was bad down there, and from his currently distant perspective, it looked _very_ bad, he would need to know what was going on if he was to be of any use.

 

“Of course, there’s trouble, sir,” Cody replied laconically, though Obi-Wan could detect a hint of concern in his commander’s voice.  _The trouble they had been trying to avoid_ , a less than subtle code for the chips activating.  “You’re here.”

 

Obi-Wan huffed, but did not reply, instead he stroked his beard thoughtfully. 

 

“I think I had better take us in, if the Jedi are traitors,” Bail offered.  Obi-Wan nodded, stood and let Bail have the controls.  Still, he stood in the cockpit and watched out the window as they began their landing run. 

 

“Head for the Temple, if you can,” Obi-Wan suggested.  “And if you can’t… well, we’ll see what happens.”

 

“That’s our plan?” Bail asked sharply.  “If they’re right, and the Senate Building was bombed, Obi-Wan, what if Padme was there?”

 

That gave Obi-Wan pause.  Not simply because he would grieve to have lost another friend to this war, but because he knew what losing Padme would do to Anakin.  His former Padawan’s mental state, though improved, was still fragile.  Padme was his guiding star, his touchstone, the one person above all others who kept Anakin on an even keel.

 

He had tried to find Anakin, and through him Ahsoka as well, but Anakin had closed off their bond.  There was a sense of darkness, but also a struggle within his former apprentice, and Obi-Wan hoped that Anakin’s goodness, his giving heart, would win out, if only one last time.  But there was little he could do from here.  He had to reach the other man first, and that hinged on being as clear-eyed as he could be.

 

But with Padme gone, Anakin would have nothing holding him back.

 

Suppressing a shudder, Obi-Wan kept his own council on that matter, and felt his heart sink as he saw the extent of the devastation.  No matter what happened, the galaxy could not go back to what it once was, if it ever could have in the first place.

 

* * *

 

Tera Sinube watched with ancient eyes as the younglings filed out of their rooms, guided by elderly Jedi, and a contingent of nurses, Temple staff, who refused to leave their young charges.  While the Temple Guardians taking up positions to defend the Temple, Sinube walked briskly through the lower levels of the Temple, his saber-cane in hand, not relying on it to walk at the moment.  He was drawing on the Force, his fellow elderly Jedi eyeing him carefully as they knew he was playing with dangerous things at his age. 

 

But needs must.

 

“Master Sinube,” an Initiate said, her high voice catching his attention, and he turned his head to regard her, taking in her large blue eyes and Tholothian headdress.  He knew this girl, he had taught her many a time.

 

“Yes, Katooni?” he asked, his voice strong, sure, no longer a quarrelsome thing. 

 

“We’re in a lot of danger, aren’t we?” she asked, already knowing the answer to the question, but asking it regardless.

 

“Yes, you are.  But we are going to do our best to see you to safety,” he told her, and she looked like she wanted to say more, but a brown-haired human boy, Petro, pulled her back.  They spoke softly to each other, too soft for Sinube to hear, and he hoped they did not try something foolish.  He did not have the energy to guide the younglings to safety and watch out for trouble from within the ranks.

 

Then they gained the lowest level and a passage all but forgotten until recently.  He keyed in a code, and the door slid open, a figure in shadow on the other side.  Sinube smiled.

 

“Zonder, good of you to meet us here,” the ancient Jedi said as the Selonian stepped in to the light.

 

“Master,” Zonder acknowledged.  “I have a few more guests with me, but I think we can’t leave them here, if the reports I’m getting from our informants are anything to go by.  We’ll all have to make a run for it.”

 

“We are sorry to have disturbed any of your plans, Master Jedi,” a small Pantoran said, one of the Senators, Sinube thought.

 

“But we will help protect the younglings,” a slim human man said, another Senator, his dark eyes serious in his young face.

 

“Then we will not turn the offer away, I think, Padawan Zonder,” Sinube said.  “Lead the way, and I will close the door behind us.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Zonder said, and then turned to the younglings.  He held up his tail, the tip dyed white for easy visual demarcation in the darkness of the tunnels.  “Follow this, and you’re following me.  Do you all have that?”  Dozens of younglings nodded, as did the nurses who carried the smallest of them.

 

“Then let’s not waste time!” Zonder said, trying to sound bright and cheerful, when fear choked the city-planet, when horror lurked around the corner, and they did not know how long the 332nd and the Temple Guardians could hold out.

 

They would take the chance they had while they had it.  Or all would truly be lost.

 

* * *

 

Rex watched as Fox led a battalion of the Security Forces across the plaza, and he felt a half sick at what was about to happen, but there was no choice.  Flicking his eyes over his HUD, he opened the channel that the 332nd used, knowing he had the riveted attention of every trooper under his command.  It was not right or fair, what was about to happen, and he knew Fives was right.  Rex had always tried to do his duty, to serve the Jedi, and in so doing he had failed his brothers.  Maybe, if Rex had been more deviant, had been able to summon greater defiance, things would be different, but he was what he was, and there was no going back. 

 

“Some of you know what is coming, but for those who don’t, understand this, those are not your brothers out there.  Their minds have been overridden, turned into little more than droids.  We all saw the same order, that the Jedi are traitors, but what kind of traitors are younglings and the old?  We were made to stand between the innocent and certain death, and boys, that’s what’s coming for them now,” Rex said, and he could see the men around him stand taller, straighter, no longer sagging, terrified at the prospect of fighting their own brothers.

 

Because the men marching were not their brothers.  Not anymore.

 

“So we are going to hold this Temple, do you hear me?  We are going to _hold this Temple_ , we are going buy time for the innocents to escape, because we are _men not droids_ , we do not follow orders blind, not when we know what is right!” Rex told them, his voice rising even though he was patched through their comms channel.

 

The answering roar of defiance was what Rex desperately needed to hear, and he knelt down behind the first barricade, taking aim down the sights of his blasters.

 

“Jarek, light ‘em up,” he ordered, the fighting began.

 

* * *

 

Ekria felt the panic fall away from her mind as she immersed herself in the data stream.  The chip network was live, and she and Echo were trying to find a way in.  Echo lied on the medical bed, heavy data cables plugged directly in to his neural port, the evidence of his work appearing for Ekria’s eyes as she helped to filter the massive data load of so many chipped _vod’e_ , so many they couldn’t save. 

 

But they only needed one weak link, only one chip that they had to slice into before the whole network was laid bare before them.  And there was one Echo kept flinging up at her again and again.  A Commando, somewhere on Coruscant.

 

“You sure about this?” she asked, but rather than respond verbally, Echo made the text flare on her screen.

 

“Alright,” she replied, and started their first slicing sequence, launching the algorithm, ready for any defenses they might encounter.

 

“You can do it, Echo,” Fives said quickly to his brother, watching the vital sign read outs with unblinking eyes.  “You can stop it… you can save them.”

 

Ekria tried not to think that Fives’s voice sounded more like he was begging than he believed what he was saying.

 

* * *

 

Vokara ran between the medical beds, Kix more than proving his worth, though she hardly needed that.  The fighting around the Temple was fierce.  It seemed like most Coruscant divisions had been diverted to attack the Temple, once the combined resistance of the 332nd and the Temple Guardians became apparent.  While defenders might hold against overwhelming odds at first, before long they might tire of the exercise and bomb the whole Temple in to oblivion.  Their only hope was that there might be some valid reason for the Sith to keep the Temple intact.

 

Troopers and Guardians alike tried to remain stoic in the face of their injuries, but the ones that had been burned screamed no matter what, and she closed her ear cones to their pain, though she could feel it no matter what she did.  Their agony battered across her Force senses, and she grit her teeth, weathering the storm, as she had weathered storms in the past.  As she might still yet weather storms in the future.

 

* * *

 

Mace Windu hauled his body down the stairs, waves of pain racking his body, and he refused to look at where his severed limbs lied on the floor.  Useless things, meat.  Not him, not anymore.  The carpet was red, red like human blood, but his arms didn’t bleed.  The wound had already been cauterized, so it was a small favor. 

 

Falling against the railing, he saw Lady Ventress lying on the floor below, a sticky wet patch around her head and blood staining the white of her hair.  Dooku was nowhere to be seen, though Mace thought he saw where the man had fallen.  That he had somehow survived and not taken his former and again apprentice, that was no surprise.

 

Kneeling by her still form, he realized he could not pick her up, could not help her.  Hissing with pain, he sent a shock of the Force through her, and her body jerked, as if lifeless, but her chest expanded, and her eyelids fluttered.  Another shock, and she sat up suddenly, her grey eyes wide and unseeing.  Then she doubled over, clutching at her head.

 

“I’m going to _kill_ that boy,” she growled, pitching forward to her knees, then she looked to him, as if seeing him for the first time.  Her mouth, with those tattoos around it, giving her face an interesting shape, hung open in surprise at seeing him so altered.  Sweat beaded down his face as he strained to keep the worst of the pain from his mind.

 

“Lady Ventress, we must…” he began to say, and then she threw one of his maimed arms around her shoulders and made them both stand.  She nearly tipped over, the sudden movement likely making her dizzy, but she stayed upright through sheer effort of will.

 

“We must get to you to safety.  There’s… there’s nothing more we can do here.  If Dooku can defeat them both, then he will, if not… we can’t either,” she said, voice harsh, bitter, but not without its own note of sorrow.

 

“There are other things we can do,” he said, words coming in between gasps of pain.  They quit the building, retreating, a shiver running through him as they did so.  It was not quite a Shatterpoint, and though he did not require his old senses of the Force to know much hinged on this night, he could feel _something_ in the Force, something caught between hope and despair, the dark and the light, the last chances and the never could be.

 

It was beyond him now, and in a final moment of weakness, he fled what should have been a moment of triumph, but had turned to devastation in the end.


	10. In the Devil’s Grip

Anakin huddled into his cloak, his hood drawn up around his face, choking down horror-laced bile.  The order had gone out, and he was to lead the Security Forces to the Temple.  To prove his loyalty, the price demanded of him for Padme’s safety.  Walking a half step and to the right of Palpatine, Anakin knew this was what the rest of his life would be, a leashed thing, a slave once again to another’s will.

 

He had briefly thought the Jedi were like slavers, taking children too young to know any different, shaping them, molding them, making them in to what was needed rather than what _they_ wished to be.

 

How wrong he had been.

 

 _This_ was slavery again, and he knew it well.  Too well, and a corner of his mind screamed that this was wrong, that Padme would not wish to be saved this way, at this price, at any price. But he could not take the risk, even as he recalled what Obi-Wan had said, nearly a year ago now, _because I love them more than I love myself_ , and he finally understood what that meant.  Understand and accept that he was not as strong as Obi-Wan.  Not in the ways that mattered, he now knew.  Strength in the Force mattered little without a deeper strength, a strength of heart he did not have. 

 

Walking back down the red-carpeted hallway, Anakin kept quiet, knowing that Palpatine could feel the turmoil in his mind, that the shadow-threads that tied them together were stronger than ever.  But as long as his actions suited Palpatine’s purpose, Anakin’s own anger and hate for himself mattered little.

 

Then his head jerked up, eyes widening in surprise as Dooku leapt at him from a small side-passage, elegant red blade moving faster than the eye could follow.  Anakin met the blade easily with his blue saber, interposing his body between Dooku and Palpatine, knowing without being told what it was his new _Master_ wanted. 

 

 _Serve me_ , the words slithered through his mind.

 

Dooku’s teeth were bared in a snarl, and Anakin could feel the man’s own anger feeding him.  However, Dooku was already injured, favoring his wounded side, and Anakin reached out with the Force, sending a concentrated burst of will at the wound, making Dooku nearly double over.  With a vicious kick, Anakin snapped Dooku’s head back, causing the man to take a knee, and Anakin pulled with the Force, calling Dooku’s blade to him.

 

Red and blue blades crossed just before Dooku’s neck, the proud, Jedi-turned-Sith stared up at him with furious eyes.

 

“Kill him,” Palpatine ordered, and Anakin’s shoulders tensed.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka held Padme, still struggling through her labor. 

 

“Why can’t we give her pain meds?” Ahsoka asked sharply, her voice sounding panicked even to herself.  Master Che looked up from the _vod’e_ she was working on, and then looked around for help.  The other Healers, all trainees, had been evacuated with the younglings, and Padme had been too far in her labor to move.  The Halls of Healing relied on the Twi’lek Master and Kix, now.  With one sharp jerk of her head, Master Che indicated a medicine cabinet.

 

“Right, okay, I’ll be right back, Padme okay?” Ahsoka asked.  Padme’s face scrunched up in pain, but she nodded, panting through another contraction.  Ahsoka yanked open the doors and felt overwhelmed again.  She’d rather be up at the Temple doors, leading her battalion like the General she was, but Padme needed her.  There was no leaving this place until Padme and the babies were safe.

 

Then Kix was there, hands bloody, but he picked out a bottle, one that she couldn’t tell apart from any of the others, and handed it to her.

 

“No more than one, General,” he said, dark amber eyes serious.  “But it’ll do.  Not much call for baby-friendly meds here.”

 

“Thanks, Kix,” she said, but he was already gone, another brother’s injuries calling him on.  Ahsoka fumbled with the lid of the bottle, but she got it off and returned to Padme’s side.  She cupped one pill in her hand and fed it to the other woman, who swallowed it dry, a grimace on her face at the bitterness of the pill.

 

“Thank you, Ahsoka, I know… oh gods,” Padme groaned, curling around her belly again.  There was so much pain, pain everywhere.  Not distracted by fighting, Ahsoka couldn’t block out the pain and she wondered how Master Che could stand it, as the hurt battered against Ahsoka’s senses in this confined space.

 

* * *

 

Echo’s heart raced as his neural processing unit struggled with the data load, even with Ekria’s help.  But they had found the one node they would try to access.  It was easier to think of them as nodes, instead of his brothers, because they weren’t his brothers, not right now. 

 

He heard Fives next to him, his batch-brother’s voice low and urgent, urging him on, though he could not discern any of the words.  The data was all that mattered, but the protections on the chips themselves were harder to get around than Echo had anticipated.  Echo had accessed his own chip easily, and in theory he should have been able to send out a pirate signal across the network.

 

However, the chips themselves were not allowed to communicate directly, only relay a signal.  They were insulated from that kind of one-to-one interference, a protection against one chip sending out a bad signal.  That meant they had to trick one chip that the signal Echo was sending was the correct one, a stand-down order.

  
Ekria filtered more data, trying another sequence of information to get the one chip to accept their signal.

 

But they were bounced back again.

 

Maybe it was the order that was wrong, he thought, and he had the text flare across Ekria’s screen.  She sent back a message, _they need to stand down!  What else can we do?_

 

 _Make them remember_ , Echo told her, and he began to change tactics, thinking not about slicing and overriding the commands, but about the nature of the signal itself, and how to use it rather than fight it.

 

* * *

 

A blaster bolt streaked toward Zonder, and he had his blade out quicker than a blink and deflected the bolt, back at his attacker.  Behind him, only the Senators screamed in fear.  The Jedi, even the youngest of them, held their composure, and the nurses of the younglings only held their charges more firmly, ready to change direction at a moment’s notice.

 

Then Lux was there, and a few other Senators, blasters in hand returning fire.  Zonder raised his head, whiskers twitching as he extended his senses.  This was a dangerous crossing, a junction in the tunnels, creating a large open area, with overhead pathways, which was where the Commandos were holed up.  They must have tracked someone’s movements, but what mattered now was that they were pinned down. 

 

“Ah, I see,” Master Sinube said, joining them at the front.  The ancient Jedi’s eyes looked upwards, and he nodded.  “I shall clear your path.”

 

“Not alone, Master Jedi,” Lux said, blaster held low at his side.  A bare handful of other Senators stepped forward.  Including Riyo Chuchi, a blaster rifle in her hands.  Lux looked at her, shock on his face.  The small Pantoran grinned at him.

 

“Did you know, you can order a rifle that collapses and can be reassembled in moments?” she asked brightly, and Zonder let out a low, purring laugh.

 

“Hm, with that rifle, you can cover us, Senator Chuchi,” Sinube said.  “Buy us time to gain the gangway, and then go on with the group.  I believe they will need you.”  There was a moment when Zonder thought the Pantoran might argue, but she nodded.

 

“Up there,” Zonder said, pointing out the Commando’s position.  “I’ll cover you, you cover them, and then they buy us time.  All comes around.”

 

Riyo nodded, set up her rifle and took aim.  Zonder stood up next to her, his blade at the ready to protect her from any return fire.  As she started firing, Lux and Master Sinube took advantage of the cover and climbed the ladders on either side of the large junction.  It was easy to hear when they engaged the troopers, the startled cry of men facing a Master Jedi unmistakable. 

 

“Move!  Now!” Zonder shouted, Riyo taking up her rifle, taking a few pot shots as she went, the mass of people running quickly behind them.  They gained the other side of the junction, and Riyo set her rifle again, ready to provide Lux and Master Sinube cover again to rejoin them.

 

Then another squad of Commandos entered the junction.

 

“Go!” Sinube shouted, drawing on the Force, blazing like a star to Zonder’s senses.   


“Get out here, Riyo!  Lead them!” Lux called, and Zonder saw the young Senator pick up a bandolier of grenades. 

 

Zonder breathed in, out, heart hammering, but he knew.  There was no time.  No time.

 

“We can’t!” Riyo cried.

 

“We have to,” Zonder countered, and swept her on to his back, dropping to fall fours again and running.  Running not for his own life, but for the lives of those he had been tasked with saving, the lives Master Sinube and Senator Bonteri were buying with their own.

 

* * *

 

Cody stood by the open cargo bay doors as Senator Organa skimmed over the chaos below.  He watched as his brothers marched for the Temple.  Thus far, the chaos had shielded them from being ordered down, and they were broadcasting Senate credentials, still active in spite of the political ups and downs that had battered at them all in the last two days.

 

Two days.

 

Hard to imagine that life, all their lives reduced down to two days.

 

But Cody had a job to do, and he saw his General approach, blue eyes guarded as the other man surveyed the planet below.  Discarding his outer robe, Obi-Wan Kenobi revealed the modified armor he wore over his Jedi clothes, his saber hanging on his belt at his side.  Then they both saw it, the Temple rearing in to view, the plaza before it crawling with _vod’e_ , surrounding the place, trying to get in to the building by brute force.

 

From spires in the Temple, and across the plaza, sniper bolts took out officers, and men held at barricades around all the access points.  But they were in danger of being overrun.  Cody adjusted the view of his helmet, zooming in, looking for the tell-tale flare of a Jedi’s sabers, but there was nothing.

 

It was the 332nd, for sure, Rex’s jaig eyes standing out, but the man was working without his General. 

 

“I think we had better go help your brother, Cody,” General Kenobi said, but though his words were marginally playful, his voice was strained.  Cody knew General Skywalker was somewhere on the planet, and General Tano.  Kenobi had to be worried about the both of them, but had been able to locate neither of them.  So they had to do the work that was in front of them, and that meant protecting the Temple.

 

That, and if Rex was making a stand somewhere, it was likely to be important.

 

“Starting our run in five.  Mon, you ready?” Senator Organa asked over their comms.  The tall, trim Senator joined Cody and Kenobi at the open bay doors, Boil behind her. 

 

“Oh yes, Bail, I most certainly am,” she said, her voice clipped and sharp, the ice in it reflected in her blue eyes.

 

The small ship came in hot and low, drawing intense fire from below, trailing smoke almost immediately.  Senator Organa swung the ship around, taking more hits on the hull, and Cody leapt, landing hard on the stairs to the Temple, but turned to give his General cover.  Cody turned, firing into the oncoming squad.  Kenobi landed lightly behind him, Mon Mothma held in one arm, but she fired as they leapt, giving a little more cover for Boil and Senator Organa, who left the controls at the last minute.

 

With no pilot, the ship had been triggered to shut down, slamming on to the stairs, blocking a direct access route for the Security Forces trying to gain the Temple.  General Kenobi ran up the stairs, even as men of the 332nd ran out to meet them, drawn by the surety of that blue blade.  Cody and Boil brought up the rear, and then he saw his brother, those orange jaig eyes staring back at him.

 

“General Kenobi, Cody, Senators, good to see you all,” Rex said through the vocoder, sounding like this was nothing more than a nice meeting rather than a pitched battle with everything at stake.

 

“Looked like you could use a hand, Rex,” Cody countered, and he heard Rex grunt.

 

“Boys, if you would drop it, thank you,” General Kenobi said, glancing sharply at them both.  “We have a chance to push them back here.  Boil, reinforce the ARCs out there, Bail, Mon, get to the armory.”  He tossed a crystal at Bail, who caught it easily.  “Try not to have too much fun, but there are some fun surprises the Jedi have kept under wraps.  Cody, Rex, we’re going to use that ship as a starting point to clear the plaza.  I want to establish a better perimeter around the Temple if we can.”

 

“Yes, sir!” Cody and Rex said simultaneously. 

 

“I won’t let you down, Obi-Wan,” Bail said, clapping the Jedi on the shoulder and moving smartly up to the Temple.  Then Obi-Wan Kenobi turned, facing the oncoming swarm of men, and Cody knew he was where he should be, standing beside his General to the last.

 

* * *

 

“You’ll never see her alive again, boy,” Dooku told him in that fraction of a second, in that moment before Anakin took the killing blow.  Anakin knew what Dooku was doing, but that did not stop him from possibly being correct.

 

“Kill him, Anakin!” Palpatine ordered.

 

“Even if she is alive, _he_ would never allow you to be near her.  She will forever be the lever by which you are moved,” Dooku said, deep voice ringing with truth, dark eyes boring into Anakin’s blue.  Doubt wriggled through Anakin’s mind again, and he stayed his hand, glaring at Palpatine.

 

“I want to see her first,” Anakin demanded, voice a strained, thin thing.  His fingers flexed on the hilts of the saber blades, still ready to strike.

 

“You will, my boy, you will.  Dooku _lies_.  You know that.  He would do anything to save himself, and he does not wish to help you, only kill me,” Palpatine said, sounding reasonable, too reasonable.  Anakin’s eyes shifted between the two men, his thoughts spinning in a frantic whirlwind, trying to find a way, anyway, to see his Angel again, to know that their children were safe.

 

“The enemy of your enemy is your friend, and he is still your enemy, Skywalker,” Dooku said, voice merciless.

 

“And you are done speaking,” Palpatine hissed, lighting shooting suddenly from his fingers, power pouring off him, through him, around him.  Dark and oily and _wrong_ , somehow more wrong than before.  Anakin couldn’t believe how much power Palpatine had, and he watched as Dooku writhed under the lightning and then slumped over.

 

“I am, however, disappointed in you Anakin,” Palpatine said, distain dripping off of every word, his vile yellow eyes turning to Anakin once more.  Anakin whirled both blades in his hands.  Since he had thought Padme died, he had felt all balance crumble beneath him.  At first, his only mad thought had been to kill them all, but then Palpatine had offered him one rope of hope, only for it to be undermined once again. 

 

Anakin did not know which way to jump, what to do, and he had no way of knowing if Padme was alive.  His sense of the Force was so confused, so lost in his own fear and anger and hate, and a desperate, pleading love, that he could not find her.

 

“Show her to me,” Anakin repeated, speaking between clenched teeth.

 

“You are not in a position to make demands, boy,” Palpatine said, lips curling dismissively.

 

“Yes, I am,” Anakin said, leveling his saber and Dooku’s at the other man, the blue and red lighting his now pasty white face.

 

“I would not do that, my boy,” Palptaine drawled, prideful triumph in his voice.

 

“And why not?” Anakin challenged, his grip on the saber hilts tight, and he felt like he was standing on the edge of a precipice.  One jump, and it would be all over, and for once he didn’t think that would be a bad thing.

 

“Because her life force is bound to mine.  If I die, she dies.  Your _children_ die,” Palpatine said smoothly, arrogance in every line of him.  Anakin’s eyes narrowed, and tried to break through his own inner turmoil to sense find the truth of what Palpatine was telling him.  And there, he felt it, like the threads that bound Anakin to Palpatine, there was a line of darkness that bound Palpatine to someone else, someone who was in pain… and two other life forces.  Small bright things that filled his mind for a moment before he blinked and before him was the ugly visage of the Dark Lord of the Sith.

 

Then Palpatine smiled, the most hideous smile Anakin had ever seen, because he knew he had won.  Well and truly won, after the sliver of hope Dooku had offered him.

 

Anakin let the sabers fall away and hung his head, his heart a dead thing in his chest.  Refrain from saving her, he might have done that, might have at the last been able to resist Palpatine that far.  But he could not be the instrument of her death, not directly, not when he could remember her from only a day ago, so beautiful and courageous and perfect.

 

He would never hold his Angel in his arms again, possibly never hold his children at all, and they might never thank him for it.  Forever prisoners to his good behavior, but alive.

 

It was all he had.

 

Knowing what was required of him, Anakin knelt, and then looked up at the only being in the galaxy he hated as much as himself right now, and spoke: “What would you have of me… my Master?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter already posted! Keep on going, it doesn't end here.


	11. He Have His Goodness Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two for the price of one today, thought it was time to bring this to a close.

The pain medication seemed to be doing nothing, and Padme’s vital readouts continued to drop.  They had evened out for a little bit, but then they spiked down sharply.  She could also hear Fives exhorting Echo, and the men around them screaming, Vokara and Kix running frantically between the troopers who were brought down to the Hall of Healing, wounded, her men from the 332nd who she should be leading, but couldn’t.  Not while Padme was struggling more than before.

 

“Master Che!  Her vitals are dropping, past the point Kix had shown her to watch out for.  The Jedi Master spun around quickly, her lekku bound behind her head for safety, the woman’s green face going oddly pale at the sight of the normally vibrant Senator pitching over sideways, eyes fluttering closed.  Ahsoka bore Padme up, her heart hammering hard in her chest as Master Che reached Padme’s side in record time.

 

“Oh… oh _space take it_ ,” Master Che bit out as soon as her strong, slim fingers touched Padme’s brow.  The healer’s eyes flickered up to Ahsoka, her mouth a hard line.  “The Sith, he’s training Padme’s life force, that of the babies as well.  He’s killing her.”

 

“Do something!” Ahsoka said, her voice high, trilling on the end in agitation. 

 

“I can’t… I…” Master Che said, grief there in her eyes, and she laid a gentle hand on Padme’s belly.  “It’s too strong.  Too strong, and even if I could, the backlash could kill her just the same.”

 

Ahsoka’s breathing became shallow, her head feeling too light, like she was disconnected from herself, and then heard, as if across a vast distance, the beat of wings, like a bird flying closer and closer.  But a bird that had also been there the whole time.  Warmth began to suffuse her body, and a bright light caught at the corner of her eyes.  Knowing what to do without knowing how she knew, she laid a strong, burnt-orange hand on Padme’s shoulder, and looked in the direction of where the dark thread of connection came from.

 

“No,” she said, her voice odd to her own montrals, overlaid with the voice of another, older, wiser, beyond memory and behind the soul, “I will not let you have her.”

 

And she let the light flare.

 

* * *

 

Rex staggered, taking a bolt through his right side. 

 

They had surged forward, using the downed ship courtesy of Bail Organa, to give them cover to try to push back the Security Forces that we retrying to bull past them in to the Temple.  But in the chaos, Rex had gotten out ahead of his men, keeping pace with General Kenobi instead, his instincts to back up the nearest Jedi winning out when they should not have.  Then Cody was there, standing next to him, levering him up with one hand as he fired his blaster with the other.  Together, they backtracked to the ship-turned-barricade, Rex slamming heavily against the hull of the ship, looking down at the wound in his side.

 

“Get to Medical, Rex,” Cody said sharply.

 

“Like hell…” Rex started to say, then Kix broke through the comms.

 

“You better get down here, Rex, something’s happened with the General,” Kix said, voice strained.

 

“Give us a visual,” Rex ordered, and Kix linked up the helmet of one of the injured men, Hammer it looked like, and fed both Rex and Cody a video stream of what Kix was seeing.  It was Ahsoka, eyes glowing white, surrounded by a halo of light, staring off in to the distance, her hand clamped on Senator Amidala’s shoulder, who looked like she had seen better days, legs braced up as she was giving birth.

 

“What the…” Cody trailed off, slightly less familiar with _weird Force stuff_ than Rex was.  With a groan, Rex pushed off the hull.

 

“Get the image to General Kenobi.  Get him to talk to the Healer that’s down there.  They’ll know.  I… I gotta help her if I can, Cody,” Rex said, mouth dry.  Whatever Ahsoka was doing, it couldn’t be normal or reasonable.  If Kix thought he should be there, then Rex knew where he was headed.  Cody clapped him on the back and urged him on.

 

“Go Rex, I got this,” Cody promised, and Rex ran, paying no attention now to the wound in his side.  He got to the Hall of Healing in record time, and just as Ahsoka started to sag.  Tearing off his helmet, he tossed it down and was at her side before she could fall, bearing her up and holding her hand to the Senator’s shoulder.  Holding her up like this, he could feel the warmth coming off of her, strange when Togruta ran cooler than humans, and her temperature was rising.

 

Then he also noticed that the wound in his side no longer hurt.  Risking a glance down, he saw it was closing.

 

“You need to keep her going, Commander.  Right now, she is the only thing keeping Senator Amidala and her babies alive,” Master Che said, pinning him with an intense gaze.  His earpiece still in and mic around his throat, he heard General Kenobi interject, “Master Che and I also believe that Ahsoka might be the only thing standing between us and certain doom.”

 

“Right, yeah, how the hell do I keep her alive?” Rex asked sharply, looking wildly between the Jedi Master and the woman he loved, who had not so much as acknowledged his presence, but continued to stare off in the distance.

 

“She might draw from you,” General Kenobi continued, Master Che returning to her charges, the men who were wounded and dying, men of his command.  “Let her.”

 

“Draw from me, what does that…” he began to ask, and then felt it, a pull from her as if she had reached in to his heart and squeezed.  She drew in a breath, and he felt a little tired, as if he had been fighting for days straight instead of just for half a day.  Then he understood, their engineered stamina, the ability to keep up with Jedi for days on end, it could also _feed_ a Jedi who needed extra strength. 

 

Then Ahsoka opened her mouth and screamed, not a high scream of a young woman, but the scream of a huntress, the harsh cry of a hawk ready to dive on its prey, and the world seemed to shatter around that sound.

 

* * *

 

Anakin saw Palpatine blink and stumble backwards, his face the perfect picture of dismay, and for a moment Anakin was confused.  The man had everything he wanted, he had Anakin, he was about to destroy the Jedi, but then he faltered.

 

Then Anakin felt it, Palpatine’s power wanted, and the darkness was not simply revealed to him as Master Yoda had done for him, but burned away in to ash, leaving but wisps and smoke.  With the light in his mind came a voice, Ahsoka’s voice, and part of him rejoiced that was she was alive, his once apprentice, while another part of him feared for her, because it was not only Ahsoka’s voice he heard.  Twinning through her higher voice, were the smooth tones of the Daughter, a remnant of Mortis, a time he largely convinced himself he had dreamed.

 

“They are safe, Chosen One.  It is to you to end this darkness,” Ahsoka-and-the-Daughter said, and he had the impression of fire-white eyes staring at him across the void.  Then resolve shot through his mind, strengthened by the knowledge he had been gifted.

 

Anakin Skywalker stood, shrugging off his out robes, lifting his head high, a surety of purpose in his mind like nothing he had felt before.

 

“She is not bound to you anymore, and neither am I.  My mind and my heart are my own, now, and you die here today, _Sith_ ,” Anakin said, voice strong, sure, spitting the last word.

 

“Alone, boy?  You cannot defeat me so alone,” Palpatine snarled, drawing his blade, the saber somehow darker now, as if flickering with a madness all its own.

 

“Alone, he is not,” a voice came, a small, froggy voice, but one Anakin had thought no one would ever hear again, after he had been gone so long, and left so mysteriously from the _Resolute_.

 

Anakin’s head turned to see Grandmaster Yoda walking up the grand staircase, gimer stick in hand, ears flat, but his green eyes bright.  The light and the dark, once again before the grey, and Anakin was ready this time, he was willing, and there was no going back.

 

* * *

 

In the plaza, Obi-Wan bit back a curse as more _vod’e_ poured in to the area.  They had managed to push forward a little, the ARC snipers doing something to pick off officers, causing confusion among the ranks.  But he saw some of the 501st among the men, just before Cody got his attention.

 

“Appo says he couldn’t control them anymore,” Cody said shortly.

 

“Space and stars, _take it_ , we can’t hold here anymore if that’s the case,” Obi-Wan said, looking around desperately.  He hated to give up ground, but there was no choice.

 

“Fall back!” he called out.

 

Then he felt it, along his senses, the light, the iron will, and Anakin reappeared along their bond.  Resolved, as though he finally had thrown off every last doubt in his mind.  And while that might mean that Anakin himself might triumph over the darkness he faced, the Jedi might not.

 

* * *

 

Rex felt Ahsoka growing weaker in his arms, but her head remained up, eyes glowing fire-white.  She drew on him, and he didn’t think she knew what she was doing, reaching out instinctively for the support she needed, for the strength she needed to fight whatever she was fighting and keep Senator Amidala alive.

 

Master Che had left Kix in charge of the men, now, sitting at the end of the Senator’s bed, coaching the small, brown haired woman to breathe.  The Senator panted and struggled, but she looked pink and alert, where previously she had been wan and weak.

 

Rex hoped that whatever was going on would stop soon, because he wasn’t sure how much longer Ahsoka could draw on him like this, and if he pitched over, she was sure to follow soon.  So he grit his teeth and held on.

 

“I’ve got your back, Ahsoka,” he said to her, not sure if she could hear him or not, but that didn’t matter.  He said it all the same.  “Always.”

 

* * *

 

“Fives,” Echo said, and Fives’s head jerked up, and he looked in to his brother’s eyes, the dark brown and infrared.  Echo was back in his body, no longer turned inward, focused on the data, on the chip network that was killing his brothers all around them.

 

“I’m here Echo, I’m here,” he said hurriedly, taking up Echo’s hand.  He had neither of his own hands anymore, but that didn’t matter.  Fives gripped the hand tightly, and focused on his batch-brother.

 

“I’m sorry, _vod_ ,” Echo said, and then he was gone again, back in to the code, to the data, and all the machines went haywire.  Echo’s vitals began to drop, but Ekria gave a cheer.

  
“It’s working!  Echo, whatever you’re doing, you’ve hit on it!  Yes, that’s it, I see it now, you’re piggy-backing off the signal, but… oh no, that’s not possible… oh… oh stars, no,” Fives heard Ekira say, but he didn’t look up at her, though he heard her frantically tapping at the data readouts, curing, begging Echo to stop whatever he was doing.

 

Fives didn’t know what was going on, all he could tell was that his brother was dying.

 

Again.

 

* * *

 

Echo had seen how tightly the network was worked together, how the fail-safes prevented any change to the signal, to the message, but Echo could add to it, if there was something to direct it.  Something like a consciousness.  Something that could persist in the network itself, as his mind had learned to handle a heavy dataload, dispersed among different neural network nodes.

 

So he uploaded himself to the chip network, and latched on to the signal, dispersing himself across the network like a virius.

 

And if he could not order his brothers to stand down, he could do one thing.  He could make them remember, remember what Rex had told him as a reg-following shiny, what his brothers would say to each other in the dark of the night when the long-necks were away, what they clung to in the silence of space, and in the chaos of battle.

 

_We are men, not droids._

_Men._

_Not droids._

_Men._

_And we decide, ner’vod’e._

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan deflected a bolt from Cody’s back, just as Cody shot a man about to run a knife through Obi-Wan’s unprotected back.  The retreat had been disorganized, desperate to reach the doors before the men there were overwhelmed.

 

Then, as if hit by a shockwave, the _vod’e_ stopped.

 

Obi-Wan watched as they shook their heads, looking at each other.  Then one threw down his blaster, as it were on fire.  Another ripped off his helmet.  Then they fell to their knees, screaming.  Their combined pain and horror at what they had been turned in to, what they had nearly done ringing through the Force.

 

Millions of men, betrayed, unsaved, and each alone in their grief and sorrow.

 

And Obi-Wan’s heart broke.

 

* * *

 

Zonder held rear guard, Riyo taking quick aim over his shoulder as ducked low to the ground, presenting a difficult target for the Commandos on their trail.  Luckily, this pathway was narrow, and when the first man fell to Riyo’s blaster bolt, Zonder pounced, leaping in to the clumped mass of troopers, baring his teeth.

 

Just as he was about to take a vicious swipe at one man with his claws, he put up his hands.

 

“Commander, sir!  What’s going on?!” the trooper asked, voice high and strained even through his vocoder, and Zonder could sense his honest confusion. 

 

“You were attacking Jedi!  Younglings!” Zonder snarled, bringing his face down close to the man’s helmet, sharp teeth on display.

 

“Please, sir!  We would never do that!”

 

“You have to believe us, sir!”

 

“Oh stars, I’m going to be sick.”

 

Zonder quickly retreated, unsure what to do with the sudden turn of events, and exchanged a wide-eyed look with Riyo Chuchi, as the normally calm, collected troopers began to cry.

 

* * *

 

Tai heard the scream, the soul searing madness in it, and she ran for it.  Wolffe cursed behind her, but Tai knew that something had changed.  The _vod’e_ weren’t chasing them anymore, and Tai hoped that meant they had been able to slice in to the chip network.  Whatever the cause, the _vod’e_ were themselves again.  But she did not expect to see one of the men, Lieutenant Marten, holding his blaster to his head, screaming.

 

With a tug of the Force, she yanked the blaster out of his hand, the strength of the pull spinning him around to face her.  As if that had kicked the will out of him, he sank to his knees in the dirt, looking up at her with horror in his dark eyes.

 

“I did it, Commander, it was me, oh stars help me, it was _me._ I killed him, I killed the General,” he wailed, digging his hands in to his hair.  Tai sucked in a hard breath, feeling a surge of rage through her.  This man had killed her master, had killed a good and kind man.

 

But it wasn’t him. 

 

She had to believe it, or she’d go crazy, too.

 

Taking a step forward, her hand reached out, and then Wolffe was at her side, their hands touching Marten’s shoulders at the same time, one white-armored hand, the other dark and small, but strong all the same.

 

“Wasn’t you soldier,” Wolffe said, and Tai knew what it cost him to say that, how much he loved Master Plo, as she had loved him, too.

 

“It is not your fault, Marten,” Tai said, repeating it, and intending to repeat it until he believed it.  And then she took in the panic around her, and knew she’d be saying that until her voice gave out.

 

* * *

 

Bly set Kit down, the _vod’e_ around them now paralyzed with the horror of what they had become, what they had almost done.  But as wounded and pained as Kit was, he gave the traumatized men quiet, soothing words.  Aayla did the same, making them look at her, because it seemed like seeing her alive and real did something to calm them down.  With every man she looked in the eyes, she knew it was another mark against the Jedi, the men they had not been able to save from this fate.

 

And these were the men who survived. 

 

There would be no repaying this, no making this better.  But she would dedicate her life to seeing no one enslaved, mind, body or soul ever again.

 

* * *

 

Hook blinked, surprised to be alive in the first instance, and then further surprised to find himself cradled in _buir_ ’s lap, her white-marked face hanging over him, tears tracing down her face.  Her strong arms held him surely, but he could feel her trembling, and on the edge of his hearing, he thought he could hear a high-pitched keen coming from her throat.

 

“ _Buir_?” he asked, throat feeling inescapably dry.  Wetting his lips, he tried again.  “ _Buir_ , what happened?”

 

“I’m sorry, _ion’en_ , I’m so sorry,” she said in Basic, her voice dipping back into the audible register.  Hook turned his head, seeing the bodies of his brothers around him, broken and still.  But as he looked down the corridor, he saw long-necks being herded by other _vod’e_ , men who yet lived, and had possibly regained themselves.

 

“I could not leave you,” Shaak Ti continued, “I could not let you die, and… I killed them, oh my boys, my children, they were not themselves, but oh, what have I done?”

 

“ _Buir_ , _buir,_ it’s not your fault,” he said haltingly, hand reaching to touch her face.  The face of his heart’s mother, and if it took the rest of his life, he would help her understand that she was mother to all of them, in spite of everything that had happened.

 

“It’s not your fault,” he said again for good measure, and she held him all the tighter.

 

* * *

 

Anakin brought his saber down, Palpatine catching the Anakin’s blue blade on his red.  Then Yoda launched himself off the ground, flipping over the Sith, striking down with his blade.  Palpatine hissed in pain, then his mouth formed a rictus snarl as he turned on the small Grandmaster, moving faster than he should be able to, but Anakin pressed the attack, dividing Palpatine’s focus.

 

But instead of defending himself again, Palpatine let the blade cut into his torso, and he dropped his blade, reaching out with claw like hands and grabbing hold of Anakin by the hair and throat.  Anakin should have been able to throw the old, injured man off, but Palpatine was drawing on the Force past all reason, the dark fueling him entirely, now that he was cut off from Padme’s life force.

 

“You will not escape me that easily, _boy_ ,” Palpatine hissed, and Anakin felt him try to establish that shadowy, snaking connection.  Though instead of placing hooks in his mind, Anakin felt Palpatine trying to take over Anakin’s body, forcing his mind into Anakin’s.  Anakin tried to fight back, but Palpatine had old pathways to follow, pathways that ran deep in to his mind.

 

“No, no, I won’t let you,” Anakin grit out, struggling.  But then Yoda was there, placing a hand on Anakin’s arm.  His eyes slid to Yoda’s, a question there, and Yoda nodded.  Anakin closed his mechanical hand around Palpatine’s throat, holding on to the Sith even as the Sith held on to him, locked together now, and he placed his flesh and blood hand on Yoda’s shoulder.  Yoda’s small hand covered his own, an unexpected source of comfort in this moment.

 

* * *

 

In the Halls of Healing, Fives bowed his head, the readouts of Echo’s vitals all flat, a low, final tone sounding in his ears.  Ekria cried, tears running without shame down her face as she disconnected Echo from the wires.  Fives shot out a hand, grabbing her by the wrist to stop her, glaring at her.  But her lip trembled, and Fives didn’t have the energy to be angry anymore, and he threw himself across his brother’s body and cried.

 

He felt Ekria’s arms around his shoulders, and he gripped her hand tightly, clinging to her like a man drowning.

 

But even in the midst of death, there was life. 

 

Padme felt at the end of her strength, but Ahsoka had finally slumped, the white fire in her eyes fading away, the young woman’s normal bright blue back.  Rex cradled her gently, his own face ragged and drained, and he sat on the floor with Ahsoka held to him like she was the most precious person in the galaxy.

 

“One more push, Padme,” Master Che said encouragingly.  Then Padme pushed and felt a strange kind of release, and she heard the cry of her baby.  Her’s and Anakin’s first born.  Master Che snatched a nearby cloth and wrapped the baby quickly, handing the child to Padme’s waiting arms.  Padme tucked the baby next to her body and pushed again.

 

“Here we go, coming quickly,” Master Che said, a strangely bright, excited smile on her face, and Padme felt her heart leap.  Her babies, almost here with her together.  With a final yell, a roar of defiance at all the madness around her, Padme pushed, and heard the second cry join the first.  Master Che wrapped this baby again, and handed it to Padme. 

 

“Can you help Ahsoka now?” Padme asked, breathless, but not wishing to see the young woman die for her.  Master Che shook her head, helping Padme arrange the twins.

 

“She’s just tired.  She’ll recover, especially if she has her Commander around,” Master Che said dryly.  The Twi’lek healer took another moment to coo at the babies.  “Anyway, you’ve got one of each, my dear.  A boy,” she said, tapping the younger one’s nose, “and a girl,” she finished tapping the nose of the elder twin.  “And they are healthy and strong.”

 

Padme felt her throat close tightly, not sure what had happened around the Temple, though she saw dead and wounded troopers all around her.  But even in the middle of everything that seemed to go wrong, for now, she had her children with her, her’s and Anakin’s.  Beautiful and perfect, their little mouths like bows, and her heart lurched with indescribable love.

 

“You’ll meet your daddy soon,” she whispered to him.  “Nothing would keep him from you.  Not you, Leia,” she said, kissing her daughter’s head.  “Nor you, Luke,” she continued, kissing her son just the same.

 

“I love you, and so does he.  You’ll see, you are so loved.”

 

* * *

 

The knowledge burst forth from the depths of Anakin’s mind, as if it had been there all along, and had only been waiting for him to access it.  The force demanded balance.  If the Dark was to be destroyed, an equal measure of Light must go as well, and it could not go without guidance.

 

“Ready, I am.  My peace, I have made,” Yoda said, though his voice sounded distant.  “Do as you must… Chosen One.”

 

“You cannot!  You would destroy yourself!” Palpatine cried, desperate, knowing this was the end.

 

 _I never stopped loving her, no matter what came after, and I think she knew that, and loved me for the man I decided to be_ , Revan had told him.

 

 _He loved me as I was, and all that came with it, he knew what it meant to love a Jedi, as I loved him, and knew, too,_ Meetra had said.

 

“There is death,” Anakin said, blue eyes turning from Yoda’s serene countenance to Palpatine’s terror-stricken visage.  “Yet there is the Force.”

 

Then the world went dark, but then, then there was light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando:  
> Buir = parent (mother or father)  
> Vod(e) = brother(s)  
> Ner = my
> 
> Togruti:  
> Ion = son  
> En = my
> 
> And yes, a cliffhanger! Kind of. There is one more fic, and look out for it to be posted on Wednesday. The chapters will then be posted daily, because I'm not cruel.
> 
> Oh yes, and all chapter titles were taken from "The Crucible by Arthur Miller.


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